Renovate
by Calebski
Summary: The light wins the war and all is well except it isn't, not beneath the surface. After an unexpected solicitation to visit Azkaban Hermione finds herself on another of her missions, though the subject she chooses is less malleable than she would have imagined.
1. Prologue

_A/N Hi! *waves from behind screen* thank you for clicking on this story. After some lovely people enjoyed the character in Pictures of You I have decided to have a go at writing him in a Hermione x Yaxley pairing which I think we are calling Yaxmione._

 _Big love to Kreeblim Sabs who is alpha reading this for me - especially for this one (the first few chapters need a lot of help!)_

* * *

 **Prologue**

HPOV

In many ways the end of the war felt incredibly anti-climatic to Hermione, she wasn't sure what she had been expecting but as the conflict that had dominated her early life ended when Voldemort's body quietly slump to the ground in defeat it was as if she was waiting for something else, some great klaxon or light to illuminate the sky, something, _anything,_ to speak to a hirer meaning. Something to absolve all of her sins committed in its name, to finally wash the lingering blood from her hands.

She limped away from the school ground come battlefield and almost immediately the questions started 'what will you do now?' 'will you go back to school?' 'what about you and Ron?' she had looked on with a blank expression blindsided by the celebrations and plans for the future, she wasn't ready for that yet, she had no dreams to put into motion.

When Harry asked the same questions a few days later she felt a raw unforgiving ice grip her heart, call her sensitive but his casual utterance made her feel like he was _expecting_ her to move on, alerting her to the fact that she had become an imposition. He had asked her to come back to Grimmauld Place when they left the destroyed Hogwarts but had that been out of pity?

She had no money, no place to stay, nothing in the whole world to show for the fact she had been narrowly avoiding death for the last few years, nothing apart from the ruined tissue that now covered swathes of her frame and the cracked dust that remained of her innocence.

"I don't know" she had answered, the words sounding hollow even to her own ears, she had never felt more lost than she did in that moment "what are you going to do?"

"Ron and I are going to accept Kingsley's offer to join the auror programme, you should come with us" his cheery voice grated against her as she watched him flip a pancake.

His words implied Ron and he had already had the conversation, _without her_. Where had she been when this discussion had taken place? Had he always been this insensitive or was it just that her skin was paper thin now? Stripped of her armour by the sudden weight of everything that had hit her in the last few days.

Mere months past she would have followed the boys, _her boys_ , into the training programme like she had followed them into the jaws of death, her preference wouldn't have mattered as long as they stayed together, stayed as a team. She had never needed to worry about her failings when around the boys, Ron was the best at making friends his growing up surrounded by other children had made him more socially affable, so she didn't need to. Harry was brave and tenacious a natural born leader, so she could follow.

But she had seen enough of blood and decay and she found she had no taste for it. She felt so old in that moment, looking at Harry, her friend, as he gleefully prattled on about how amazing it was going to be. It was one thing to do battle when seeking to survive but she didn't think she was made for seeking it out.

That said going it alone for the first time since she was eleven was going to be a fight, Hermione wasn't convinced she was ready for it.

* * *

As it turned out _for once_ the universe had decided to smile at her, and this time it was not with derision, that afternoon a large impatient owl appeared carrying an envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest. Ripping open the envelope in haste she sat forward alert as she skimmed the steady script of Professor McGonagall, as expected she had taken up the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts following the death of Professor Snape in the final battle, Hermione was sure she would feel guilty about misreading his intentions and motivations for the rest of her life.

The letter needlessly explained the school's current level of disarray, Hermione had seen the battle scars her beloved home had taken when she was there. Her Professor was organising reconstruction projects that had to be undertaken in order to ensure it would be able to be re-opened. The current plan was to forgo the first term and accept students back in December.

Professor, or rather _Headmistress_ McGonagall asked her to come back to lead a team of ex-students assisting with the works and then asked if she would like to stay on to take her NEWTs.

Hermione only considered the offer for ten minutes, always a practical girl she stripped her current situation down to facts, she needed an occupation, something that would hopefully give her purpose. Now that she gave herself time to think about it as crazy as the idea of going back to school seemed it was no more insane than sitting in Harry's dusty old house reflecting on being unwelcome. Sirius Black had already proved this dwelling was no place for the haunted, Harry had plans of course, to remodel, to make it a family home, it would take more than a lick of paint and some new light fixtures to turn this place around.

She sat to pen her reply in the affirmative.

* * *

Spur of the moment decision or not going back to the castle was the best move she could have made, working on the building that she had loved throughout her childhood gave her a sense of purpose that had been missing since she had spent the summer pouring over dark magical texts searching for the next horcrux. It also began to wash away the memories of the final battle and the end of the sixth year, when the Death Eaters had got into the castle, she started replacing the bad memories, remembrances of fear and helplessness with good ones.

As the headmistress had requested she led the small team of ex-students that had returned to lend a hand, herself Neville, Luna and of all people Cormac Mclaggen were the only people that had come back.

They were quite the collection of misfits truth be told, though that wasn't really an issue for Hermione, more like a continuation of every grouping she had ever existed in.

Neville's Gran had fought admirably during the war and at the final battle itself but it had weakened her heart. While Augusta Longbottom herself would protest that she was still 'very much alive' she had lost a great deal of her former vigour and was confined to bed rest for large portions of the day. Unable to watch another of his loved ones slip into decline Neville hid away with the rest of them in the castle.

Luna had spent a large portion of the war under lock and key at Malfoy Manor, a place that Hermione only revisited unwillingly in her nightmares. While on the whole Luna spoke of being treated fairly well she had confessed that she had been hauled in front of the inner circle during several meetings and Hermione heard enough of her screaming in the dead of night to know what fairly well really meant… _I didn't die_.

Cormac had been the surprise when she had first seen his mop of curly blonde hair she had tensed automatically. Annoyance at herself had made her walk over to him to say hello this wasn't the sixth year anymore and she wasn't a child, avoiding a boy that had been somewhat overzealous in his attentions was ridiculous after you had faced actual monsters. He was haunted in the same way Neville was by life under the Carrows though unlike Neville he didn't try to put you off the scent of his hurt by being exuberant and jovial, Cormac was withdrawn and stoic.

All four of them pulled together into a weird sort of friendship group, they leant on each other and kept each other going through the hardest times.

A month after the works started Hermione requested leave to visit her parents, she had pulled herself together somewhat, regular food had led to her returning to almost her normal size, most of her superficial cuts and bruises had now faded and as such she was no longer concerned about frightening them when she turned up on the doorstep. Permission given Hermione planned her trip down to the last detail, she had spent any free time she had while on the run researching the reversal of the complex charms she had placed on them, yes they were muggle but she believed she had worked out the magic appropriately.

When she got up to go to the apparition point that Saturday she was amazed to find the four figures waiting for her. The Headmistress and the rest of her 'team' smiled indulgently.

"You didn't think we'd let you do this alone did you Granger?" Cormac smirked, she smiled in return. Her first impulse was to tell them _she would be fine_ , that _she didn't want to be a burden_ , but deep down she knew she would need them, even the best possible outcome of this trip would leave her drained magically and emotionally she felt comforted to know she would be around people that she wouldn't need to shield with.

The journey was long and nausea inducing even with magic but as they had regained the time they had lost while in transit Hermione decided to waste no further time and go to her parents straight away. With the help of her headmistress she had managed to get an address for them fairly quickly, as she initially suspected they were in Sydney. She shouldn't have done it, but she had heavily suggested the city as a possible location when weaving the interlocking memory charms, she had learnt a lot from Mad-Eye Moody the first of those lessons had been to hide in plain sight.

Hermione felt a rush of excitement as they found themselves outside an upscale apartment building in downtown Sydney, it had been so long since she had laid eyes on her parents, the last time making up some of the fractured snippets of her nightmares rather than a memory to cherish; her father's brown eyes, eyes just like hers, widening as he realised what she was about to do, her mother's voice pleading with her, the traces of her existence being erased from the home, walking down the quiet street after closing the front door for the last time, alone, totally alone.

She consulted the scrap of paper in her hand one more time, running her fingers over the address, before giving a nod that was more resolved than she felt and leading them inside the building and into the lifts.

When they got out of the lift Hermione made to continue down the soulless corridor but the headmistress hung back halting her progress "I think some of us should wait behind, too many of us would be hard to explain at first"

Hermione considered how strange it would be from her parent's point of view "good idea"

Cormac stepped forward "I'll come" his tone was deceptively nonchalant but Hermione had worked with him long enough to know there would be no shifting his resolve.

Reminding herself that she had only just this morning allowed that she would need help, Hermione smiled in reply before leaving the others at the main atrium with him following her lead down the corridor.

When they arrived outside apartment 43b she paused, she hadn't prepared anything for this encounter, mapping a speech hadn't seemed worth it as she knew her mind would go blank as soon as she took in their faces.

"What's the plan?" Cormac asked quietly.

Hermione bit her lip "Err I was thinking try to get in, maybe... ask to use their phone and then… and then…. stun them" she finished, Cormac raised his eyebrows "I know, but the magic I have to perform... it would be safer if they were already out"

"Okay, best get on with it then" he chided before placing a hand on her shoulder "you'll only lose your bravado if we carry on standing out here"

She raised her right hand that was already gripped so tightly into a fist she was sure her palm would be marked and knocked against the door.

There was no response, she waited a moment and then knocked again, still nothing. Maybe they weren't here, she looked at Cormac who merely shrugged. She thought for a moment, she had come all this way and whether or not they were here it might make sense to go in and have a look around, it might bring up something that would have a bearing on the magic she had prepared.

Decision made she squared her shoulders and pointed her wand at the door "Alohomora"

After a brief second she heard the familiar audible click that signified the spells success and the door opened the smallest amount, it was clear from the crack now visible from under the heavy door that there were no lights on.

Hermione placed her palm, open this time against the cool surface of the door and pushed it gently, herself and Cormac moved inside, both immediately moving towards the hall wall, when she had time to think about it she would probably be saddened by the war honed reflects of two people as young as they were but for now she was grateful to them. She didn't know what it was, whether it be the stillness of the air around her or some other indicator she couldn't even pick up on but something was poking at her senses urgently. Something was off.

She walked further down the corridor hesitantly, conscious that she didn't know the layout of the property and cursing herself for her poor planning, whatever she was feeling Cormac must have picked up on too as he had moved even closer to her, she could feel his soft breath ruffling her curls on the top of her head.

Only one of the doors off the main corridor was ajar, the furthest one, it emitted a slight slither of light and the pair walked towards it after a look of silent agreement, Hermione gripped the handle and after a rough swallow pushed the door open hard and fast wand raised defensively.

Her wand arm dropped limply to her side as she regarded that she had opened the door to total devastation, the room appeared to be the main living area of the flat with a sitting area and open plan kitchen. She had hoped, when she had first got there, that she would be able to spend the time while her parents were unconscious, while the spell reversed, looking around the flat, she imagined herself wallowing in familiar decor and trinkets. That would be an impossibility, the entire space looked like the scene from one of the over dramatised crime shows her dad had loved. Furniture was overturned, papers were scattered everywhere and Hermione felt her mind give over to panic.

No longer able to stand still she moved back out of the door at speed, she lurched back into the corridor and started feverishly opening doors.

Utility cupboard, nothing.

Larder, nothing.

Bathroom, nothing.

Wait.

As she had turned to exit the room to continue her manic search something caught the corner of her eye, there in the middle of the floor was a partial footprint, she folded herself down to the ground to look more closely at the muddy stain, her eyes clouded involuntarily as she took in the copper hue of the old mark.

On shaky legs she righted herself and walked into the corridor, her steps were fumbling and much slower this time. Her eyes zeroed in on the one door she hadn't opened yet, it must have been the bedroom, falteringly she managed to grip the handle and after a couple of failed attempts she pushed the barrier open and she was greeted with total darkness.

She could dimly make out that a blind was drawn across the windows but the small amount of light breaking in through the slats provided no illumination at all. Without knowing where the furniture was her only option was to turn on the light. She raised her hand slowly and felt along the walls for a switch, when her fingers registered the telltale bump of plastic she shut her eyes tightly and flicked it, breathing a couple of unsteady breaths before she opened them.

There on either side of the bed where her parents, or rather what was left of them.

Both bodies had been bound and were positioned to be sat up in bed, a book still lying open between her mother's broken fingers, cups of tea still halfway full on the bedside tables. A parody of their normal nighttime routine.

Their faces were barely recognisable but their eyes were open and she could almost be certain they were looking at her so direct their gaze appeared to be, despite the lack of cognition behind it.

She wanted to run but her legs wouldn't move, she wanted to scream but her throat was uncooperative.

Cormac would later tell her that when he found her she had slumped along the door, sat with her legs drawn up and her face resting on her knees quietly pleading with herself to wake up.

* * *

That night they somehow made it to a wizarding hotel, Hermione had no idea how they had got there or any other banal details she just wanted to sleep if she slept there was a chance she could wake up tomorrow and none of this would have happened.

Luna had helped her wash and get changed, she was too out of it to be able to care about stripping off in front of the younger girl, she was sure she would feel the embarrassment later when she had a clearer head. After braiding her unruly hair back and kissing her on the cheek Luna left leaving Hermione alone for the first time since she had made the discovery.

She looked at the large inviting bed and turned away opting to sit instead in the battered leather chair facing the scenic window. She watched the stars quietly for a while until she heard the door click open. Cormac walked in, his hair still damp on the ends from an earlier shower, when her eyes fell down his body she would have laughed under different circumstances, his pyjamas were bright Gryffindor red and the bottoms were covered in tiny golden snitches that darted up and down his legs in bizarre patterns. He looked down following her gaze and he smiled at her a little sheepishly, he tried to play it off but she saw the way his bare feet curled in embarrassment.

After minutes of endless silence he walked a couple of steps further towards her chair and held out his hand. She stared at it for ages, it wasn't like her to accept, she had been a caregiver for so long she wasn't sure how comfortable she felt with the boy before her offering comfort.

But somehow she knew he was safe, he had already seen her broken there was no use in pretending now. She shrugged before placing her much smaller hand inside his. His fingers wrapped around her tightly then he pulled her out of the chair and walked her to one side of the bed, pulling the covers back and gesturing for her to climb in, which she did. He pulled the covers back over her before walking around to the other side and climbing in himself.

He didn't move to touch her, they didn't speak but as the bed dipped adjusting to his weight Hermione turned herself to face him, somehow seeing his impassive face lying next to her calmed her enough that she fell asleep.

* * *

Days later when she had been safely transported back to England her brain had cleared enough for her to stop moving with no comprehension of the world around her, questions began to filter in.

 _How was the scene preserved like that?_

 _Why weren't they discovered?_

 _How long had they been left there?_

The Australian Magical Government shed some light, they sent a representative to meet with her at the school, the Headmistress offered her office for privacy and Hermione had accepted asking if she would stay, doing her best to keep her voice from sounding desperate.

Shawn Malbanks was a tall slim man that looked remarkably like an animated paint brush, with his rigid form and ink black hair swept into a rather elaborate quiff for a man of his age. He had all the hallmarks of a wizard who took a certain pride in his work, he was detailed and formal but never officious. While he was clearly sensitive enough to recognise her emotional state he never looked at her with pity, she didn't have enough wits about her to appreciate it at the time but later she remembered and she did.

He informed them that charms had been used to embalm their bodies and steps had been taken to preserve the _integrity_ of the left environment.

She sat in silence as he gave his report, her mind got stuck on words that spat an abstract beat in her mind;

 _Bodies_ … _excessive_ … _traceless… brutal_... _unprecedented_... _sorry_.

The information swirled around in her brain and she didn't even have the energy to grow frustrated with herself at her inability to push together the pieces to fill in the blanks a part of her mind was screaming for.

Minutes or maybe even hours later she looked up with a start to find the official gone and her old Head of House watching her through concerned eyes.

"They wanted me to find them?" She asked softly, it had taken her mind forever to weave together what Malbanks had been talking around, but she had gotten there.

McGonagall looked at her sadly "You... or someone else from The Order"

She turned that thought over in her mind, only one question remained "Do they have any idea who did it?"

"None, though it was unquestionably a Death Eater does it really matter which one?"

She got the impression the question was rhetorical but her mind supplied a very definite answer; _yes_ , yes it mattered, she wanted a name she wanted to know if they were already dead.

* * *

Following his care of her in Australia her weird, undefined relationship with Cormac continued as the school year began, Hermione felt odd to be back in school uniform skirts and ties again, at nineteen it felt slightly inappropriate.

The four of them that had worked together over the summer had remained close despite the influx of more faces to talk to and an unspoken routine of sharing beds for comfort seemed to be born.

Once or twice a week she would find herself in sock-clad feet moving to the boys dorm room to climb into bed with Cormac, he never refused her. His presence chased away the nightmares, she wasn't sure if it was _him_ or just that it was someone but when she settled herself amongst his pillows the visions of a panting Bella or the wreckage of her parents temporary home would fade and she would be able to get enough sleep to function.

He climbed into her bed too sometimes, she would move the covers up as soon as she saw his form appear in the bedroom, she never asked what haunted him that made him seek her out.

She would probably never know what had triggered it, maybe it was nothing at all, but one night everything changed.

She had woken up to the soft sound of the dormroom door being opened and instinctively moved to open the curtains of her bed as Cormac fell onto the mattress heavily. She shuffled over as much as possible, the narrow beds did not provide the space they had that first night in Australia but they still usually managed to be able to avoid touching each other for the most part, save for the accidental graze of knees or awkwardly placed elbows every once in awhile.

"Hermione" he asked softly and she turned inelegantly in the small space to face him, eyebrows slightly raised to her his voice, even after all this time they never normally spoke.

"Yes Cormac?"

"Why didn't you want to date me, in sixth year, after Slughorn's party?"

Hermione rubbed her face slightly hoping it would clear the remnants of sleep and unmuddle her brain enough to answer his question "I was in love with Ron" she answered honestly "and… well… I didn't think we were that… compatible"

She took his silence to mean she had given a satisfactory answer and she settled herself back down to sleep, just as she was beginning to lose herself she heard him speak again, barely audible this time "What about now?"

She bit her lip, the space in front of her eyes was dark with the curtains drawn and she could have probably pretended to be asleep but she was a crappy liar and if he asked her in the morning he would know from her face "Which part?" she hedged

"Both" he answered, a little louder this time.

"I don't know about the first part, I don't think so. And for the rest, I don't know you Cormac... not really... but then I suppose I never really did"

Once again there was quiet and Hermione closed her eyes tightly though sleep was more elusive this time, she didn't miss it when he responded; "I knew you".

She was fairly certain he hadn't meant for her to respond, possibly not even for her to hear so she kept quiet.

* * *

Over time the visits to each other's beds became more frequent, Hermione found she no longer waited for the nightmares to grip her before she padded down to his room.

They spoke more when they were together now, cocooned in the safety each other's presence afforded. She learned that his Grandfather had been a muggle, that he took his Scottish heritage very seriously and even had a kilt which she begged him to show her but so far he had refused.

He told her how he missed quidditch, the houses had not yet got back to organise sports and house teams yet. In a whispered conversation late one night he admitted that he thought he stood a better chance of making the first team this year as Harry was no longer here, her guilt kept her awake far longer than her nightmares that night.

If anyone else noticed their nocturnal activities nobody said anything, that seemed unusual for Gryffindors, brave and bold they might be that usually made them the worst for sticking their nose into each other's business. When she tiptoed quietly out of the dorm one morning to see a stream of white blonde hair poking from the top of the covers in Neville's bed she realised maybe they weren't the only ones.

* * *

As the winter months faded away it felt as if a weight was lifted off the castle and its inhabitants, the shadows that had been on the faces of the students began to melt away like the last lingering remnants of the snow outside. Cormac began to break free of his withdrawn state, his personality becoming stronger, more forceful. He seemed to have shaken off his youthful arrogance, he wasn't as desperate for everyone to know how great he was and he could hold entire conversations without reference to his superiority in the given subject. He had really matured, or maybe, as Hermione considered one night while regarding him discussing something animatedly with the boys a year below them, maybe she had never known him well enough before to see beyond the 'jock' like image he presented to the world. She certainly hoped her friends saw past the know-it-all bookworm people assumed she was.

She had come to care for him, after a fashion. It was strange to have a relationship with someone, someone she might like, that wasn't fueled by passionate rows and fierce misunderstandings it was… safe. He had been a rock for her when she really needed one, since her return to school she had seen Harry and Ron very infrequently, they still sent letters but the rigours of the trainee programme prevented them from meeting her the limited times she was available in Hogsmeade. As much as it had left her feeling quite vulnerable she was proud of them, they were truly committed to the programme and she wanted them to succeed.

Not being able to have a face to face conversation with Ron had led to a fairly uncomfortable letter exchange, their kiss in the final battle had been the culmination of years of walking a tightrope between friendship and something more, but then there had been nothing, it made her realise that if there really had been something there before, something strong like love, even young love, it would have manifested itself by now.

Five years of pining was ended in a short note from her freckled friend, he had started seeing a witch in the programme, his missive was sloppy over long and hesitant but she took from it all she needed, he wasn't deliberately trying to hurt her he had just assumed this would be easier than having a conversation about their feelings.

She clutched the note in her hands as she looked up again at Cormac, where her reasons from sixth year still valid? Had she been holding back as she was concerned she was still in love with Ron?

That night she hesitated before going into his dorm, it had been so easy before when she was continuing without the pretence of anything else, now that she had opened the dialogue in her own mind over her feelings for him she suddenly felt obvious and awkward. Did he think she liked him? Was he irritated by her constant interruptions?

She faltered for an hour, twice getting as far as the door before getting back into bed only to shake herself just after midnight and charged to the boys room before she could second guess herself again. When she got to Cormac's bed it was to find the curtains were still open a slither, as she went to move them back she locked eyes with him, his face illuminated slightly by the open window across the room.

"What took you so long?" he whispered as she jumped in and closed the curtain.

She smiled as she laid down deliberating for a second before laying slightly closer than she would have before if her proximity surprised him he didn't show it.

She summoned all of her bravery and spoke "Cormac?"

"Hmmm" he muttered, face planted directly into the pillow.

She played with the end of the bed cover fidgeting a little "why did you ask me to Slughorn's Christmas party?"

He shifted slightly to face her "because I wanted to go with you"

"That's it?" she asked incredulously.

He eyed her like she had said something completely ridiculous, it was an expression she was more used to seeing on Ginny "Yes… isn't that what you're supposed to do, like someone then ask them out?"

Whatever her face betrayed it softened his eyes "they won't all be like him you know"

She flushed "I don't know what you mean"

He smirked at her "I'm sure you don't.. Go to sleep Hermione"

As she fell to sleep she felt his hand slowly intertwine with hers.

* * *

The summer term arrived before Hermione was ready, for the first few weeks she had registered a building tension in her blood, she became paranoid and kept looking over her shoulder. It took her a long time to convince herself that nothing was coming for her this time.

Just after she completed her exams she received an official looking letter from The Ministry, further to the Order of Merlin that she had received for her services in the war she was to be awarded a cash sum for her bravery, dedication and applied intelligence.

Part of Hermione really didn't want to take the money, she had no doubt the award would be mentioned in the paper as another PR tactic from the government to absolve their sins, unfortunately she didn't have the resources to take the moral high ground at that moment, she needed the money.

She was expected to get the best NEWT grades possible but despite the shiny achievement it may once have been, somehow she had found herself in the same position she had been in a year before. Where to now?

Once again her former Head of House came to the rescue, a week after the exams were over a signup sheet for a careers talk was placed in the common room. When Hermione went in for her slot the Headmistress handed over a small stack of parchments.

"What are all these?" she enquired leafing through the assorted envelopes.

"Letters from other wizarding institutions" the Headmistress answered a smile tugging at her lips.

"I don't follow"

"Several international schools would be keen for you to join them, for a term or two, learn from their tutors show you the way they do things"

"Why?" she questioned dropping the envelopes to look up at her teacher.

Professor McGonagall smiled indulgently at her "so they can say they taught you of course, you may not understand it yet Hermione but there is a great commodity to be had in claiming you helped shape a young mind, especially if the mind in question is widely reputed to be the brightest witch of her age"

Hermione opened several of the parchments skimming the contents her mind whirring "what do you think I should do?" she spoke into her lap.

"Hermione" she looked up at the woman that had become so much more to her than a teacher, especially in the last year "I think you should go, you can't say this wouldn't appeal to you, learning magic you have never heard of before, being introduced to world-renowned experts, you would be in your element"

* * *

She left the Headmistresses office in something of a daze walking out onto the grounds to settle herself on the grass and placing the envelopes in front of her attempting to read in more detail. Most of the students were outside, the end of exams had switched the atmosphere of the castle from high alert to blissed out relaxation in a mere moment and the most challenging thing her peers appeared to be up to was a game of pick up Quidditch.

When Cormac found her an hour or so later the sky had begun to turn purple as the sun set in the distance and Hermione had made it up her mind.

"Where have you been?" he asked jovially as he noted her reading.

"Out here thinking" he dropped to sit down next to her "I had my careers talk"

He placed his hands onto the grass behind him and leant back on them, his eyes fixed on the robed figures zipping around in the sky above them "Yeah? What's the plan then?"

"Headmistress McGonagall passed on some letters from other wizarding institutions that may want to teach me"

Cormac looked down at the parchment pile in her lap "looks like more than a few" she nodded "how long will you be away for?" he asked his gaze assessing the parchments she was still holding.

"I'm not sure, they're from all over and some have some really interesting proposals... It might take, well a while" she sucked in a breath in the silence and forced herself to sound unconcerned "what about you?"

"Ah, life in The Ministry for me thinking of applying in the DMLE, the auror programme opens in September"

"You'd be good at that" she stated honestly

"I know" he smirked and she laughed.

* * *

That night Cormac came to her room, it was earlier than normal and she wasn't even properly settled in bed when he slowly pulled the curtains open and moved in behind her.

"It's going to be weird without you here next year" he whispered as he leant forward and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder "I'll miss you"

"I'll miss you too" she whispered turning to face him, they locked eyes for several seconds before they were kissing, she wasn't sure who had leant forward first but it didn't really seem to matter, maybe talk of her leaving had forced their hands, making them act now rather than waiting to see where the underlying tension would go.

Cormac's technique had definitely improved since his sloppy attempts under the mistletoe all those years ago, as the kisses heated he pushed her down onto her back his fingers fumbling to lift the t-shirt she was wearing.

On reflection they had seemed to get naked incredibly fast, barely coming up for air it was only when the last piece of clothing between them had been removed that the atmosphere between them suddenly stilled "Are you sure Hermione?" Cormac asked between laboured breaths

"Yes" she responded, and she was.

* * *

When she had woken up the next day they were still entwined together, Cormac's arm resting against her stomach pulling her further into his warm embrace, they repeated the changed routine for a week until it was all over.

They crossed the lake in the little boats and landed in Hogsmeade ready to catch the train, well the rest of them were, Hermione was staying at the castle, given leave to remain the two days before her first portkey was set to go to take her to America.

Standing next to Cormac watching the steam billow from the shiny red engine she suddenly felt awkward again. Cormac picked up on her mood and smiled at her opening his arms for a hug which she walked into gratefully "Stay safe Hermione, and write me"

"I will" she promised.

She stood waving off the train at the platform, where she remained for nearly an hour after it had disappeared from sight.

She was on to the next adventure.


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N posting early as I'm out and about tomorrow. Thank you to everyone who has checked this story out, I'm pretty excited about this fic so lovely to have you all on board! Thank you for all of your lovely reviews, in particular to some wonderful guests who I haven't been able to reply to in PMs... you rock._

 _Thanks, as ever, to my wonderful alpha and #1 Yaxley enthusiast Kreeblim Sabs._

* * *

HPOV

Hermione's life abroad was vastly different to anything she could have imagined in her wildest dreams; meeting the Professors, the other students, experiencing new cultures, everything she did, every little segment of life that was opened up to her went some way to healing the fissures that had been left by the war and her isolation.

She had made a promise to herself, that moment as she watched the fire-red train depart from Hogsmeade Station, that if she was going to do this she would put all of herself into it. This was no longer the time to hold back her heart or her mind.

She exchanged letters with her friends semi-regularly, Luna and Neville were consistent correspondents and the boys maintained sending an owl once or twice a month as they had while she was away at school. She enjoyed getting the news from home especially as she would often get the same tidbit from ten different points of views making her laugh at the differences between them.

Cormac kept in touch, his letters were longer and more frequent in the first six months but she couldn't blame him for that, she had never given a timeline on how long she anticipated being away. They hadn't been together, not really, but they had become something more than just a life raft to each other, she appreciated his efforts in trying to remain present in her life, to remain a source of support in the only way offered to him.

He spoke of people he had met in his letters and while he never went into specifics it was enough to wipe away any residual guilt that she may have hurt him along the way. She met her fair share of wizards too and for once, in a world that seemed more full of more infinite possibilities than any other she had been a part of she rolled the dice a few times, had bad dates, had _great_ dates, laughed, cried and enjoyed herself for the _now_ rather than for some payday in the future.

As it ended up she spent a year in America only, the culture and diversity on offer were as widespread as the country itself, with magic having originated from all kinds of early clans and settlements. Their attitude to the dark arts was markedly different than that in England; _magic is pure, it is the hand that colours it_ was a popular idiom in the institutions she frequented. That fact alone had her world opened up to thousands of reference materials that would have been absolutely off limits at home, her vista became less black and white, more…. Shades of grey.

Being around intellectuals rebuilt her confidence, as a young girl she had been obstinate and brash but never insecure about her acumen, years of being around people that did not share her interests had rounded some of her rough edges but it had also stripped away some of her desire to stand out by excelling, in other communities success was not seen as a bad thing, it was to be celebrated.

After America, she went to China and from there to continental Europe, it would appear her travels were being talked about by some back at home as she regularly had correspondence from witches or wizards offering her accommodations as she made her journeys. While in France, she stayed with Fleur's parents, and during her stay in Italy she found herself out on a friendly dinner with Blaise Zabini of all people.

The money she had been awarded following her Order of Merlin was substantial but not infinite, so Hermione supplemented her income with various jobs, many of which were in the muggle world. Much to the surprise of her co-workers and even employers she would show up for any shift exuberant and chatty, despite working in a coffee shop or the occasional bookstore she felt like she got time to reconnect with her heritage, she used it as a way to pay homage to her parents by not letting herself let go of the world she was born to.

* * *

The trouble with having fun was that it made the time pass fast, Hermione had never really been able to assess the truth of that adage until now. After a four-month stint in Germany, she had travelled the world, met an amazing group of people and had been away for three years. When she stopped to think about her travels she could never have believed she would have been away for that length of time without once returning home, but that was just it, without her parents occupying the semi-detached suburban house with the white picket fence, without having a reason to return to Hogwarts she didn't really feel like she had a home.

The more she ruminated the more she felt she had no other reason for continuing to stay away other than hiding from her life, there were no more roads to travel as it were.

After making the difficult decision to leave Berlin Hermione sent off notes to her friends explaining that she was coming back, Harry had hastily responded inviting her to stay with him at Grimmauld Place. She had accepted but with a sense of trepidation, her last visit there had not been as successful as she might have liked, however, she owed it to him, to their friendship to try.

* * *

Harry and a gaggle of excitable redheads met her from the airport, Hermione felt like she had seen enough of port keys to last her entire existence and it was much easier to sleep safely stowed on a plane in any case. She had only been expecting Harry but clearly, the draw of a full airport was too much for Arthur to ignore and he had come along with Ginny, Molly, and Ron.

She soon found that her worries were completely unfounded, Harry and even Ron had grown up a lot in the time she had been away, the shiny ring on Ginny's finger proved that they were at a different stage in their lives, Hermione realised to her amusement that she was comparatively a late starter compared to her school friends.

They had a pleasant meal together that was just like old times, everyone talking over each other laughing and joking at each other's expense, though as much as she enjoyed it… it would never be the same, they were all different people now. Not even Harry and Ron seemed as close as they once had been. Their friendship was built between three people who _needed_ friends, people to rely on, to the exclusion of all others. They weren't _quite_ those people anymore.

* * *

Getting up the next day after her first night on British soil instead of the low-level dread she had anticipated, Hermione felt rejuvenated and ready to start sorting herself out. Her experiences had left her with much less fear of the unknown, she was more in command of herself.

Shrugging away the covers she trudged down to the kitchen to find Ginny making breakfast and snagged the paper, it was time to start looking for a job, and a flat.

While she was idling looping adverts and chewing on a piece of toast the morning post arrived. One of the birds, an imposing looking eagle owl landed in front of her at the table, the majestic creature repeatedly ignored Harry's attempts to intercept its load and cocked its slim leg at her. Once she had offered the unknown bird a piece of bacon she carefully removed the small envelope and turned it over. There was nothing to be learned from the outside, the script was unfamiliar and there were no other markings. The only thing she could say for certain was that the sender certainly didn't hold back coins when buying their stationary.

Reasoning that she would never find out by staring at the envelope she tore it open to find a note from a very unexpected source. Curiosity peaked she abandoned her annotated paper and retreated to her room to consider.

* * *

The gates of Malfoy Manor were not a sight that Hermione ever expected to look upon again in her lifetime, the spiralling of the darkest silver iron work looked less sinister today than it had all those years ago, in fact, the entire property looked different. Whether it was because she wasn't being pulled along by a rabid Fenrir Greyback or because she had no fear of The Dark Lord being tucked away within the walls she wasn't sure.

Holding her hands out in front of herself, she carefully placed them on the hard metal, the gentlest of pushes being enough to activate whatever mechanism operated the tall barrier and she stood back as they moved open fluidly, the last excuse removed she began making her way slowly to the door.

The walk down the drive felt longer than the last time, suddenly her mind was transported to a different time, a time when her feet had wrenched for purchase on the all to moveable gravel. A time when she had fallen, more than once, onto the unforgiving surface. A time when she still thought begging would help her. She quickened her step towards the property hoping to leave the beginnings of her nightmare in her wake.

Draco had _suggested_ they meet at two pm if anything he said could be described as being anything so passive as to suggest. The short note had been more instructive than anything else. While the pale boy may not have known her at all at school he was well enough aware of her motivations to exploit her curiosity to ensure she came, he had asked for help and then given her as little detail as possible, only requesting that she meet him here.

She had initially thought that the location was chosen to intimidate her, to make her more malleable, but the longer she considered it the less that would make sense, if he _truly_ needed her help, like his missive had claimed, it would be no way to to go about it. She got the impression Malfoy's rarely asked for anything that could possibly be interpreted as them being in a position of weakness.

As she approached the large Manor doors they creaked open and a shock of hair revealed Malfoy himself had come to the door. It took Hermione a moment to recover herself, she would never have imagined he would answer his own calls and so had not been prepared for the sight of him. He looked better than the last time she had seen him, but considering that last viewing had been during the battle of Hogwarts it was hardly a surprise, she hoped she looked at damn sight better that she had that day.

Draco Malfoy looked almost exactly as she had imagined he would as an adult, he had filled out a little growing into his height, his skin was still as pale as milk and his hair so blond it was almost white, but his face was that of a man's now. In her last, most vivid memories of him she could see his face so clearly, despite being seventeen he had so clearly resembled a scared little boy, she had thought of his face often over the years, it reminded her that they were all children no matter which side of the war they were fighting on.

One glance as it his impressively tailored suit and she felt incredibly underdressed in her floral skirt and jumper but she refused to be intimidated, at least outwardly, so she squared her shoulders reflexively. The quirk she caught on the side of his mouth suggested she had not been entirely successful.

"Come in Granger" he drawled in a tone Professor Snape would have been proud of.

"What do you want with me Malfoy?" she asked, trying to keep the snap out of her tone, just being here being in front of her childhood tormentor made her slip back into her old defensive habits. She took a moment to centre herself, _you're not that girl anymore Hermione, they can't hurt you anymore_.

"All in good time, follow me" he replied ignoring her earlier tone. He didn't sound the same she realised, it was as if the lack of permanent sneer on his face had altered his voice. She imagined she might sound a bit different without her nose in the air too.

She walked after him through corridor after corridor, as soon as they made an abrupt turn moving away from the part of the house that was familiar to her Hermione felt herself relax. She followed Malfoy until he led her into an opulent sitting room, the wallpaper had areas of rich gold gilding and the antique looking furniture was grand but showed no signs of wear, as he moved to the side Hermione glanced upon the beautiful cold face of Narcissa Malfoy. She was not sure she had ever seen anyone that looked so… _resplendent_. Narcissa was truly striking, given the chance to really observe her Hermione could detect the similarity between her and her sisters, she wondered if there would ever be healing there.

Narcissa regarded her impassively, her long blonde hair was pulled up into an elegant twist, her mouth set into a firm line giving her face a haughty look that she suspected was probably practised, though her eyes gave something away, Hermione had never noticed before but her eyes were very expressive, she supposed that the black blood had to show somewhere. The cool blonde's frank assessment of her 'guest' made Hermione uncomfortable but she did her best to push the emotion down. Whatever she was here for was unlikely to be pleasant and she would hold her nerve as long as she was able.

"Miss Granger, won't you sit down"

Hermione started slightly at the unexpected voice but did as she was bidden, she wasn't sure she had ever heard Mrs. Malfoy address her before, when she had been held on the floor here by her insane sister, Narcissa had continued speaking as if the spectacle was not happening in front of her, her voice had sounded bored. At the battle she had heard her screaming while searching for Draco, her wails conveying her deep distress and a mother's fear. Her _normal_ tone was very nice in comparison, it was aristocratic and cold but not hostile.

As Hermione sat Malfoy took the seat left between the two witches and Narcissa began pouring tea, as the amber liquid slowly made its way into the third cup Hermione felt another surge of discomfort at the silence filling the room, drifting from their table all the way to the high vaulted ceilings. She shifted slightly her body twitching to pace, by the time the milk was being added at a snail's pace she had stuck her hands under her thighs to try to prevent further writhing.

She took her proffered cup and couldn't hold it in anymore "why am I here?" she asked, her eyes darting between the two silent blondes.

Mother and son shared a brief glance before looking back at her, Narcissa made a soft hand gesture towards her son and Hermione faced Draco expectantly, sitting on the edge of her uncomfortable seat with an eyebrow raised.

Draco's eyes rested on the coffee table as he spoke "my father is dying"

Hermione almost responded with _I'm sorry to hear that_ but she bit back the words at the last moment, the expression was such an instinctive response but the words weren't true. Sure, she probably wouldn't have wanted anyone dead but was she really sorry he was dying? Lucius Malfoy had been the physical embodiment of the bogey man to her and her little group when they were little, sure Harry and Ron may have sneered at him but she knew that underneath that highly polished veneer what he was capable of, any man that could set the balls in motion to open the Chamber of Secrets was dangerous and in the fifth year she realised just how much. No, she couldn't honestly say she was sad, so she pursed her lips together and said nothing.

Draco seemingly hadn't noticed her slip as he was now warily glancing at his mother through the corner of his eyes, Narcissa's outward visage never faltered but she looked smaller somehow like she was collapsing in on herself, that and Draco's concern showed that whatever else the elder Malfoy's might have been he clearly still had the devotion of his wife.

Not knowing what to say Hermione simply remained silent until Draco started speaking again "the current prisoner terms allow for visitation once every three months, which we had to campaign for fairly relentlessly, The Ministry does not normally allow those with the dark mark or those _associated_ with them to enter Azkaban, mother and I go separately, I went two weeks ago to find… he is very much in decline and has convinced himself that he will not see the year out. At first, I believed him to be simply being melodramatic…" a small smile tugged at Malfoy's lips then, like he was remembering something he was unwilling to share "...but I spoke with the healer that has been treating him, they have corroborated his assessment"

Hermione swirled her thumb around the rim of her cup, this was not what she had been expecting "why are you telling me this?" she asked, her tone softer this time. She might not be able to offer her sincere condolences but she was a long way from delighting in his grief.

Draco set his cup down pushing his hands together in front of him "we need... we would like, your help"

Hermione eyed him warily, he had said as much in the letter but somehow hearing it out loud made it even more baffling, Malfoy, the boy that had taught her the word that was carved into her arm, on his ballroom floor, wanted her assistance "I… I don't follow" she finally stuttered out.

Narcissa spoke then "when Azkaban was first designed part of the extensive plans included the construction of a graveyard on the grounds for those who _died of despair_ " she coughed lightly "naturally it is firmly against my wishes as well as his own that my husband be buried there, even the thought it…" Draco gently clasped his mother's hand, moving towards her at the first sign of a waver in her voice and Hermione suddenly felt like she was intruding on a very intimate moment.

Draco turned to face her "we wish for him to be brought back to the family tomb when the time comes"

Malfoy looked at her expectantly and her brow furrowed "I'm sorry what part of this requires my help?"

"They are stipulations tied to our obtained visitation order, those detail most expressly that myself and my mother are only allowed to Azkaban every three months, our visits are heavily monitored due to our… pasts" he sighed "it would appear that despite every loophole we have tried to find the simple fact is my father dying would not override that rule, thus if I had visited already within that three months I would not be able to collect his body"

"But that… that doesn't make any sense" she proffered helplessly, her brain attempting to wrap around the design in such wording.

"I am aware…" he drawled, but his eyes flashed, it was quick but Hermione saw, it was the first time since she had entered the Manor that Malfoy had let a whisper of emotion through, how strange it must be for them now? Their lives once one of open doors and endless possibilities, how hard it must have been for them to adjust.

"There is, however, another clause" his words broke her from her thought and she met his gaze "a family _friend_ may collect the body on our behalf" another look passed between mother and son and Hermione stared at Malfoy blankly "All the remaining friends I have are either marked or too close to someone that was to help, everyone else… well I haven't seen them since the end of the war"

Hermione stilled "you want me to collect... his… his body?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes" was all he said, he spoke the word slowly as if attempting to make the proposition sound less totally ridiculous.

She had no idea what to say next, her mind felt like the inside of a wasps nest, questions buzzing around her ears desperate for attention "why me?" she finally blurted.

"Honestly, Granger because I thought you would do it" He sounded tired, she wondered how many last resorts they had tried before he had sent that owl, wondered if they had thought about this at all before they had obviously received word she was back in the country.

Hermione wasn't sure how to take his frank assessment of her, it was true that activities like S.P.E.W. had given her something of a reputation at school but it was a bit tough to still be labelled as such an irredeemable bleeding heart.

"There is one more thing" Malfoy muttered, he seemed a lot less certain of himself now and that alone made a sense of dread pool in her stomach.

"Oh?" she asked pleased when her voice sounded less tremulous that she anticipated.

"You need to have visited in the last year to qualify as family friend"

Her blood ran cold.

Hermione had been to many places that had frightened her during the war but never the prison, she could still hear Sirius' drink-fuelled ramblings about the place, still remembered his gaunt, haggard appearance that night in the shrieking shack, she never thought she would have reason to go to the island in the North Sea.

"We would compensate you of course" Malfoy said leaning back into the chair as if he had just laid a perfectly reasonable share option scheme on the table in front of her. His casual mention of money made her grind her teeth, her mind wanted to yell at him, affronted that he would think she could be talked into something with the offer of money. But she stopped herself just in time, he had leant back, she had seen it… he had been expecting her outrage. Younger Hermione would have screamed at his presumption and would have agreed to it on the spot to prove him wrong. Younger Draco would have bested her, but older Hermione wasn't playing.

"Compensate me?" she remarked lightly.

"Yes" he said, and she caught the minute raise of his pale eyebrow, his tiny tell that he was surprised. Despite the situation, she felt oddly pleased with herself.

"Perhaps" Narcissa spoke "Miss Granger would like some time to think about our… proposal?"

"Err yes I think I would" Hermione rose to her feet knowing she must have looked incredibly rude but not caring all that much at that precise time, she had been on tenterhooks since she had received Malfoy's note and she just needed to be somewhere that didn't make her skin crawl to think.

Draco pursued her down the corridor catching up quickly with his long legs "you _will_ think about it Granger?" his tone was insistent.

She stopped at the sound of her voice and turned to face him, she was almost a foot blow him but she tilted her head to look him squarely in his grey eyes "I owe you nothing" she declared, almost daring him to challenge her, she let the words settle between them before finishing "but I will think about it.

* * *

 _A/N so some actual plot in this one, in the next we meet Yaxley!_


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N thank you to everyone that has already reviewed or added to lists, advance warning this chapter will contain Yaxley :)_

 _For those of you that read Pictures of You, I have a new story up called 'The Mixtape' which will feature a series of song-prompt one-shots. The first chapter is Antonin x Hermione and from the POY universe._

 _Alpha love to Kreeblim Sabs!_

* * *

HPOV

Hermione stared up at the prismatic stone building dominating her vision, even with her head tipped almost all the way back she still couldn't quite make out the very top of the structure. She blinked several times at the heavy cloud coverage if she hadn't been so resolutely practical she would have called it ominous. The atmosphere around the imposing rock made her feel like she had apparated into a different world entirely, the late autumn day she had left behind had been perfect. She had opted to walk to a further apparition point, just to enjoy a few more blissful moments of leaves crunching under her booted feet, and, she could admit to herself, to put off this visit a little while longer.

Hermione didn't know why she was helping, not really, she had chewed the Malfoy's _proposal_ over again and again. She had meant what she said when Draco had pushed her, she really didn't owe them anything, not one little thing. She couldn't dismiss it entirely, she knew herself too well, if she had of ousted their plea out of hand it would have played on her conscious, but that wasn't what was really making her discomforted.

It was what they had said about the law itself, she kept thinking about the Death Eaters she had seen at the Department of Mysteries, all of those who had only been out of Azkaban a few months. Their faces hollow and vengeful, they had all looked half mad some totally unhinged. Was keeping them here going to make them better? What if they got out again?

It was nothing she could pinpoint but a weighted feeling settled into her gut and she knew she was going to go. She had dropped a single line to Malfoy and said she would visit, nothing more. The postscript had told him not to respond as there was a good chance anything he said could have led to her changing her mind. To his credit, he had listened.

There were no leaves here, no signs of life at all, everything was an eerie blue-grey as far as the eye could see. The building itself stood on a small patch of jagged rocks, not much wider than the prisons foundations, she could have walked around the entire island in less than five minutes. Remembering Narcissa's impromptu history lesson she sidestepped a few metres until she could see a barren patch of land that must have been the graveyard.

Hermione stood silently for a moment regarding the turned earth in front of her, there were no markings anywhere that she could see, how many souls laid beneath the blank soil. In that moment it felt like an unbearable cruelty to have them left here, in this place of nightmares. Hermione had not been raised religiously, but she had enough understanding of church proceedings to know about the sanctity and importance of hallowed ground, there was no chance of eternal peace on this rock. The wind whipped around her and she pulled the light jacket she had put on that morning around her tightly her, her fingers seeking to close the sleeves around her wrists.

She turned away from the expanse of turf and made her way to the entrance, as she rounded the corner she spied a very familiar auror waiting to greet her.

"Hermione?!" he called.

"Cormac?! What are you doing here? You never mentioned you were stationed in Azkaban" she suddenly felt so much safer, like the cool grey darkness that had been threatening to seep into her skin had been held back by the brightness of his smile, his familiar face and comforting presence set her nerves at ease, the way they had all those years ago.

He beamed at her "I only started a couple of weeks ago, most of the guards are full time here but the rest of us do relief work every now and again, I haven't had to do a rotation before"

"How long will you be here?" she asked conversationally, amazed at the calmness she felt, she had been worried about facing Cormac again after all this time and even more concerned about coming to Azkaban, and yet somehow both happening at the same time seemed to cancel the fear she felt for each situation out.

"Six months" he answered with a roll of his eyes, Hermione was sure this wouldn't have been top of her list of places to be either "anyway what are you doing here? I saw your name on the docket to see Lucius Malfoy of all people" he asked, he didn't harangue, he didn't accuse, he just asked.

"It's a long story" she said with the air of the long-suffering, she looked up into his face, the last three years had been good to him, he still looked much the same and yet different somehow. Still tall and slim, though his textured blond hair was now clipped closer to his head, she imagined the programme had not cared much for his lustrous curls, his eyes the same soft sea green, though they held a little less mischief than she remembered "It's good to see you Cormac"

His eyes raked over her and she felt a momentary diluted thrill "good to see you too Granger" a smirk stretched across his face "really good"

She felt herself flush under his attentions and sought to divert the conversation "will you be escorting me?"

"No" he answered, and she regarded him with some amusement as he slipped easily into his auror mode "come with me, Johnson is on today he will be taking you up to DER"

"DER?" she asked lightly, following him through the vast doors without looking back.

"Death. Eater. Row it's what we call it, there's a bank of cells where they all are, up pretty high in the building"

And just like that, all the happy feeling was gone, she nodded conflicted about how she should feel and eager to get this over with.

* * *

Aiden Johnson was a kindly man in his late fifties, about average height with dark hair and smiling eyes, he made Hermione feel like she was in capable hands. As Cormac introduced them, Aiden, as he had insisted she call him, explained how he had taken the option to switch to full-time guard duty after the war. He told her he had felt he was no longer fit enough to complete the consistent drills and raids required of him as an auror but hadn't wanted to leave the DMLE totally. She waved goodbye to Cormac as the older man led her to an ageing lift that was all open, the cage surrounding it made out of hardened metal.

While they streamed upwards, with surprising fluidity given the rust on the ancient looking contraption, she despaired at the view she had of the prison from the inside, it was true there were no dementors here anymore, she could only imagine the horror of being here while they were present, but the air itself was oppressive, dank, dark and filled with decay and squalor.

The further they ascended the worse conditions seemed to be, Hermione shuddered at some of the brief sights and smells she detected as they moved up, attempting to brace herself for when she got out. When the lift finally came to a heavy stop Aiden moved back the creaking metal doors with a groan of effort and they stepped into the corridor.

The hall was almost airless, the light barely existent, Hermione took a moment to breathe in through her mouth to steady herself, the lack of oxygen tricking her brain into thinking she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Aiden moved to step next to her and led on, the first real shock she got was the lack of bars on the cells, her legs momentarily stiffened as her head whipped from side to side, at first she considered there was some kind of mistake but as she robotically stepped forward to look as close as she would dare she noticed a shimmer of magic in the corners, there was some kind of magical barrier there. The discovery didn't do much to allay her increasing fear, while she was sure the barrier that had been constructed was more impervious to corruption than the metal of the bars the optical illusion of the bare space set her heart racing.

All of a sudden a strangled noise sounded from her right, already in a heightened state of awareness Hermione pivoted on her heel, as she darted around she located the noise, in the cell she had just walked passed one of the inmates was stood right by the mouth, repeatedly hitting his head against the unforgiving stone wall. Her eyes widened as she heard the second muffled thump, she closed her eyes as the third impact had a distinctly wet sound.

When she turned Aiden was a few steps away from her, obviously he had not stopped when the pained cry had sounded "Aiden, what should we do?" she asked gesturing towards her right.

The old auror turned and glanced back to where she was looking "ignore him, does it all the time" he replied casually, Hermione started at his tone and the expression on his face when he regarded the prisoner, suddenly his breezy tone from earlier didn't make her see him as a fatherly man, one that would keep her safe, it seemed cold and out of place. He turned back around abruptly and continued down the corridor " _nutcase_ " she heard him mutter under his breath.

Realising, to her growing discomfort, that the guard intended to do nothing she stepped hesitantly towards the front of the cell "please stop" she said, hating how thin and weak her voice sounded, when her words _predictably_ did nothing she tried again, louder this time "please...sir, _please_ stop"

The dark figure paused and moved his head to face the cell opening, he straightened his body slowly as if the movements were practised, once his head had risen from its hunched position Hermione could take in his frame, he was tall and wiry with a long, dark, blood mattered fringe covering one eye. As he shifted the dim light from the corridor fell across his face and Hermione found herself face to face with Rabastan Lestrange.

Despite the blood and the manic look in his eyes being familiar to her, screwed up as that was, he looked so different from when she had seen him at the final battle, she had heard stories of this wizard for years but had never stood so close to him before, not that she knew of any way. He tilted his head to regard her but there was no flash of recognition from his face, Hermione was grateful, she didn't imagine him realising he was inches from the most famous muggleborn of their age would improve his disposition.

She took a gentle step back as he continued to study her, his gaze shifted to accommodate her movement, she didn't know if it worried or soothed her to find he still had some level of awareness, they never spoke but she felt something pass between them, though she wasn't sure what it was.

* * *

Hermione approached Lucius Malfoy's cell with more trepidation following her recent inmate encounter, any thoughts she may have had about her preparedness had been dashed in the last thirty minutes, from the moment her small feet had landed onto the island she had been out of her depth.

Whether she _liked_ Lucius or not, if such a trivial assessment of her feelings towards the man could be made, became irrelevant when her eyes fell on the wretch at the back of the cell. His white blond hair was flecked with silver strands hanging limply around his face, ageing him long before his time. His face looked sallow and his eyes sunken, it was hard to look at the wizard that had once possessed such an innate aristocratic air in such a depleted state.

It appeared to her unschooled eye that he and his healer were correct, Lucius Malfoy was certainly very sick. As she stood at the mouth of his... Well, 'cell' was probably the appropriate word but as she observed it closer she was sickened by how much it resembled a cage. Her eyes ran over the unbroken brick of the back wall, _even animals have air holes drilled into their temporary boxes_ , her mind supplied. That was what they were, temporary holes to shove them all, _out of sight_ until they died, one by one, far earlier than they ever should of.

She could hear the rasping sound of his heavy breathing, it sounded familiar to her, her Grandmother had pneumonia many times towards the end of her life as well as fluid on the lungs, the laboured movements of his chest and the grating of his throat sounded the same.

When he finally looked up at the figures blocking his limited light it was clear he had recognised her, he sneered but it was a poor parody of anything she had seen on his face before. She hadn't seen him at the final battle, not up close anyway, but she remembered the way his face had lit up when he had seen her in his home, seen the hunger he had to hand her over to Voldemort, to accelerate his position with her flesh and blood.

"Miss Granger, you'll forgive me if I don't stand" he drawled and despite herself, she almost smiled at his acerbic tongue snapping at her.

"Of course Mr. Malfoy" her voice saccharine, his face snapped to hers, he recognised the challenge in her tone, her utterance of sweetness doused over the flames of his bitterness.

"Why are you here?" he drawled "some kind of petty 'I told you so' mission or are you just completing the grand tour of the establishment? Well look to your heart's content Miss Granger, I'm not sure even you could pollute this place with your filth"

"Less of your attitude Malfoy" Johnson threatened.

"Please give us a moment" Hermione requested, her voice had lost the jovial tone she had shared with him before, she was polite but there was enough bite in her tone for her to impart that this was not a request.

The auror raised his eyebrows at her but she persisted and met his incredulous stare, she was sure Draco wouldn't want what they were doing broadcast, irritating as she found Lucius she didn't want to add to his misery. They may have no code of honour, but she did, she would never kick a man while he was down.

She waited until Johnson had moved _reluctantly_ out of earshot "I am here because Draco sent me" she answered without preamble. Somehow his derision had made the bizarre situation more normal, it allowed her to think, to act, more like herself.

He looked momentarily surprised before the expression disappeared, she could see his brain processing for a moment before he looked back up at her "Ah"

She nodded, not sure what else she could say, how did you confirm that you were there to make sure you would be able to take his body without obstruction when he died? Which according to all sources was due to happen imminently.

"Well, then Miss Granger I find I am... _grateful_ for your... _assistance_ " the words sounding as if they had been dragged from his throat.

Hermione smiled wanly, the idea of Lucius being in any way grateful to her was almost enough to tip her over the edge after the events of the day.

* * *

She hadn't stayed talking to him long after that, there didn't seem to be much point, it hadn't been a social call. The idea of her _having tea_ with Lucius Malfoy was ludicrous in the first place, through in the location and it was just plain barmy.

No she had visited, she could tell Draco she had done it, she had done what she had agreed to and now she didn't have to think about it until she was notified of his death.

Except…

She apparated back to London, back to the fresh air and muted sunshine of her normal life, she trudged to her favourite local cafe and slid into a seat by the window, needing the distraction of the passing people traffic to clear her mind.

Her brain flashed images at her over and over on a loop, a chilling pastiche of life within the damp grey prison walls. She couldn't help the questions that poured through her, now she was in a peaceful spot she didn't even try. One thought shouted louder than all of the others; What was the point?

In the muggle world, sentencing and imprisonment were built on the foundation of rehabilitation, the system had its faults but at least that was the intended basis. What of the wizarding world? Was Azkaban a punishment, a threat, to ensure the obedience of the population or merely just a physical manifestation of the desire to sweep complicated issues under the carpet?

She hadn't expected to be so affected emotionally, which seemed stupid to her now. Hermione knew her predilection for justice, though she possibly just hadn't fully anticipated what had stirred within as she had assumed it had been done. Those people had committed terrible, ugly, unforgivable crimes, they had been sent to prison, an improved version of the building she had heard about before.

Nothing was ever as it seemed in the world, delinquents they may have been but the image of Rabastan Lestrange rebounding his head off the grey brick came back to her when she considered that they deserved their fate, his haunted eyes when she asked him to stop. She closed her eyes and shook her head as if that would change anything, she had promised herself earlier today that if she went through with the meeting Draco had requested she would buy herself a cake, the assumption that the small reward would _make it all better_ seemed so foolish now. She glanced over at the counter, she had no appetite in any case.

She ordered a coffee and sat in silence while watching the world go by, ruminating on her predicament.

Something had to be done.

* * *

YPOV

Reuben Yaxley shifted onto one side, on the uncomfortable cot he had called a bed for the last four years, longer than that if you counted his previous stay in Azkaban, but he didn't like to think of such things. He repositioned himself, alleviating the persistent pain in his right leg but only succeeded in granting himself a moment's reprieve before the new position made him more aware of his ribcage shooting tight pains across his torso. Sighing heavily with resignation he sat himself up, rubbing his large hand over his face, in an attempt to banish away the last of the lingering shadows from his dreams lurking behind his eyelids.

The aches were getting worse, though he refused to accept it was purely down to age, for starters his ego wouldn't allow it but more practically he knew that his magic should have meant he would live until he was around a hundred and fifty, meaning he wasn't even middle-aged.

He had often wondered, when he ran his mind over his predicament if prolonged periods without being able to perform magic affected the ageing process. He hoped not, he had plans for when he got off this rock, plans that _definitely_ required his body to be in top working order.

Rising from the bed fluidly, despite his protesting limbs, he stood to his full height before reaching his arms above his head to connect with two of the metal rings anchored into the ceiling, raising himself up onto them. The rings had been placed there years before, when regular torture to _extract information_ was the norm, well that was what they had called it, though he didn't remember many questions being asked. His long stint in Azkaban after the fall of The Dark Lord the first time round had been brutal and bloody, many of the scars that littered his body had come from that time.

There had been no guards at Azkaban then, they had not been needed, but there were regular _visitors_ from The Ministry. He had never broken, never given them any satisfaction as much as he could help it, he had remained impassive in the face of continued torture. Rather than making them seek another target, his lack of outward reaction angered them, he got more visits than most. Not that it mattered, if he hadn't broken under punishment from the Dark Lord he wasn't going to do it then, it had been the only control he had left, he had been raised to never back down.

In comparison to being shut up in a dark box, patrolled by dementors, being routinely beaten by a bunch of arrogant idiots had been nothing, he had almost welcomed their visits as a break in the monotony, if he was in pain he had something to focus on, having a focus meant keeping his mind, keeping his mind meant keeping alive.

When he had been broken out of the stone fortress he had fallen on his knees before his master and requested he be placed within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a request which was happily granted. It took him three days to remove all of the most frequent attendees to his cell, their deaths had been _quicker_ than they really deserved but the looks on their faces as he walked into their offices had stayed with him much longer, as had their screams.

He continued raising himself from the ground and pausing till he could feel the tension build in his arms, pushing himself till sweat beaded on his forehead. He had just lifted himself for the twelfth time as he heard footsteps coming from further down the corridor. He was so much more _aware_ in the prison this time, with no creatures distorting his mind and the changes to the cells themselves he felt more present than he had before. For inmates like him, this was vital, it allowed him to maintain his health and his sanity, for others, well… some people had welcomed the freedom the slide into insanity gave.

The cells had the whole of the front overlooking the corridor removed, there were no bricks or bars but a veil of magic that hummed slightly if you got too close to it, despite its slight pearlescent sheen he was certain the result would be much more than a stunner if you did attempt to break through the impediment.

It was one of the many changes that were made to the prison following the last war, they were told it was to prevent them from _further_ psychological damage. He had snorted at that, the Ministry official that processed them had told them in a nasal voice how being kept in the dark and in total isolation for the rest of their imprisonment would have been detrimental, he had not suppressed the eye roll.

Really Yaxley believed that the new boundary was less for the benefit of those behind it and more to do with those on the other side. It made them little more than freak show exhibits _welcome to Death Eater row_.

The _visitors_ that came to the prison now didn't carry pipes or bats but sneers and upturned noses, witches and wizards that he had never seen during the course of the war were very brave now the Dark Lord's most faithful were safely behind a shield unable to intimate them. Not that it stopped him trying.

He tried as much as possible to stay true to himself, he survived this last time would survive it again, despite how futile it felt. When the war had ended there had been no trials, much like the last time they had been shut straight in here to presumably live out the rest of their days, rotting out of sight, pushed to where they could not besmirch the image that the _Light_ presented.

Reuben had looked around in the holding room, at what was left of his marked betherin, there hadn't been many of them left. So many would probably never survive the first five years, wizards like Lucius Malfoy were not accustomed to the hardships here, the near year he had served after the fiasco at Department of Mysteries had nearly killed the blond Death Eater, indefinite confinement had a way of extinguishing hope.

The aurors that now guarded the place told them their trials were coming, held up by the administrative process or the long list of things that had to be done to rebuild. He had never really listened, he wasn't sure if they actually believed their own words or whether it was a particular brand of mental torture they were employing to keep them subdued.

Subdued was one thing he was not, while he was awake he was as active as he could be, he paced the small cell like a caged tiger, all barely restrained aggression, there were days when he _ached_ to run, to exhaust his muscles, to feel his heart lurch to beat out his chest, he did what he could to tire himself.

He kept his mind engaged by verbally sparing with the guards whenever possible, they made it easy for him. He may not have had a lot of respect for the aurors he battled with in the good old days but they were certainly worthy opponents. Alastor Moody, pre-magical eye, and slide into paranoia had been a formidable foe, and tactician, his death had clearly impacted on the training of the new recruits.

Within the cells there were two slim slots of the same magical veil found at the entrances, replacing bricks in the walls that separated one inmate from another. It meant he could see into the cell next to him on either side. As he let himself down from the rings he dropped his hands to rest on his knees to catch his breath. It was more ragged than he would have liked considering the relatively small amount of exercise he had completed. He shifted slightly to look into the next cell, Antonin Dolohov was laying back on his own cot staring blankly at the ceiling. Reuben held in a sigh.

He had known the wizard lying prone in the neighbouring cell since he was a boy, Reuben had gone to Hogwarts just a year after the death of his younger brother, the bond he had shared with Sebastian was unlike any he would go on to experience in his life, his tragic death had hit his family hard. It had been the latest in a long line of steps that had shaped him into the man he became, he was hard-nosed and had a tough hide, he had seen some of the worst scenes a person could see and come out the other side still wearing a wry smile.

His relationship with Antonin formed quickly, he would never replace his brother, but he became someone he loved equally. Like most of the purebloods he had been raised with Reuben believed in the importance of family and Antonin was all that was left, and the Russian was struggling.

While they were outwardly fairly similar, both tall, imposing and stoic in company, that was where the similarities ended, as Antonin had grown he had become introspective and cold, it was to be expected, they had all changed, it was a coping mechanism. Where Antonin had picked contemplation and firewhiskey Reuben had buried himself in humour and witches.

That silence was not helping the Russian now, he was becoming despondent and unresponsive, with no one lining up to visit either of them Yaxley knew it was up to him to bully his friend into surviving long enough for them to get out of here. It was a sad state of affairs, how many trapped within these walls were the last of their line, how many names would die out with these forgotten men?

He was shaken from his assessing gaze by the sound of chatting at the end of the corridor, a guard walked passed with a short witch with unruly curls walking along side him. He tracked their progress down the hall until they stopped outside Lucius' cell, she was probably a healer, Malfoy didn't seem long for this world.

Antonin shifted sitting himself up and Yaxley forgot about the activity in the other cells and focused all of his attention on his brother.


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N hi all, thank you for your wonderful reviews and adding to lists I am overwhelmed with the love this story has gained so far._

 _Alpha love to the amazing Kreeblim Sabs who helps me remember what I am supposed to be going with this story._

 _On with the show..._

* * *

HPOV

Hermione had spent the week following her ill-fated trip to the wizarding prison locked in a frenzy that those around her had not seen since exam time at Hogwarts, she spoke to everyone she knew about the island in the North Sea from her friends and peers to old Professors and Order contacts still working at The Ministry.

All of their responses had followed along the same lines, they were all scared of the place but earnestly believed that it was the best solution for the Death Eaters that remained following the war. The rest of the conversation would be taken up by discussions over the _vast improvements_ that had been made.

When she had exhausted all of the information she could glean from contacts and still needed to know more she reverted to type and headed to the Library. One of her favourite places in the wizarding world was the London Magical Library; located in the bowels of the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. The library ran the full length of the old building and was accessible from a painting on the third floor which was hung opposite Van Gogh's Sunflowers, needless to say very few people were ever looking in that direction.

When Hermione arrived ladened down with enough supplies for a full day she headed in the direction of the periodicals. The magical would probably never understand how much it lost by not having computers but they made up for it in some ways. Heading to one of the dedicated booths Hermione unloaded all of her equipment before leaning forward to write in her small practical script ' _Azkaban, improvements_ ' onto the rough piece of blue parchment stuck to the desk in front. She moved her hands from the surface of the desk as she watched the ink seeped into the paper before disappearing. Mere seconds later articles started appearing in the trays in front of her, she waited until the last parchment dropped into the predestined space and eagerly began leafing through.

There were _hundreds_ of pieces from The Daily Prophet, of varying length, though most seemed to recycle the same vague information over and over again. The dementors were gone, the inmates were given more regular food, cell changes had been made to improve the quality of life but no real assessment had been done, no undertaking of evaluation of the welfare of those encased inside its walls.

There were also no real details of what it had been like before, she had heard the stories of course, but nothing was covered off in the press. Lifting a quill she jotted down notes of all of the detailed changes, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, in fact, most of the items seemed to make sense, but they were all so _basic_ it left Hermione shivering to consider what she would have walked into had she visited in the early nineties.

She pointed her wand at the desk mounted parchment, muttering the incantation the harassed librarian had shared with her earlier, and the articles vanished back to wherever they came from with a soft pop. Hermione leant back in her chair biting her lip while considering. She would need to review the laws that had been amended to make these changes, to corroborate the evidence she had but first… she lifted her quill and wrote ' _Azkaban, Death Eaters_ '.

The pile that appeared was slightly smaller this time but what she found was infinitely more interesting, the prison was currently home to twenty-five marked Death Eaters though only ten were believed to have been from Voldemort's inner circle, the rest were dead. Various articles suggested that most of the 'others' that had been marked had only been so in the last year of the war, when Voldemort had been a lot less circumspect in who he gave it too, all of those men had been tried and given ten year sentences.

As she poured through the words she couldn't find anything on the trails or sentencing of the inner circle Death Eaters, _surely it would be here somewhere?_ Hermione couldn't remember their trials from back then, she had been in such a muddle after the war attending more funerals than she had ever hoped to attend in her lifespan, reading more news had not been the priority, the more information she consumed the more panicked she felt, a dawning sense of dread was falling on her and she didn't care for what it suggested.

Remembering her fifth year she had a bolt of inspiration and rummaged through the stack looking for a familiar print. Towards the back was a lengthy article on the Death Eaters that remained, their lack of trails and their imprisonment, the article was damning, to say the least; it referred to the current conditions, stated that even with the improvements that had been implemented the environment was inhumane, called for the injustice at their lack of sentencing to be ratified and even accused The Ministry of exploiting these people for good press.

Luna and her father could never have been accused of subtlety.

* * *

The offices of The Quibbler were not as zaney as one might have expected from reading the publication. When Hermione had first come here to meet Luna, who was now working for her Father as a Junior Editor, she had been stunned by how much the headquarters looked like a normal office building, however, she soon discovered that was merely on the surface. Blown-up images of popular covers spouting strange exclusives lined the walls, the desks were covered in all kinds of artefacts and the spines of the books lying around revealed the breadth and depth of some of the research that went into the publishings.

When Hermione had first met Luna she had treated The Quibbler, its readership and even her with a level of derision, the publication had been something of a laughing stock, the wizarding equivalent of those UFO magazines her dad would make fun of in large newsagents. The war had changed all that when no one had believed Harry and The Prophet were coming up with a new way to slander him daily, The Quibbler stood by him. Via Luna they printed his account of what happened the night of Voldemort's resurrection, by including that article Xenophilius Lovegood faced down public scorn and exposed himself to threats from the Death Eaters themselves, threats that were carried out when he continued to publish articles championing the side of the Light way after open war had been established.

That was the beauty of The Quibbler Hermione came to understand, buried amongst stories she did not comprehend were little slices of _absolute_ _truth_ , sometimes that veracity would be so bold it would sting and maybe that's what made all of the other stuff necessary. Much like having a relationship with Luna herself the paper provided both scorching burn and comforting salve.

Hermione meandered through the desks heading towards the Editor's office, she had dropped over a note to Xeno ahead of time requesting a moment from his day which he had readily accepted. She would have preferred to meet Luna for a coffee rather than taking time out of the man's day but when she had sent her notes to announce her homecoming Luna had responded with her own travel plans.

She knocked on the open door and stood in the door jam observing the wizard sitting behind his desk. Xeno was pouring over parchments when she arrived, his desk in what could kindly be referred to as an extreme state of organised chaos. His soft blond, permanently windswept, hair was longer than she remembered; resting just below his shoulders, offset massively by the shocking magenta of his robes. On anyone else the outfit would have looked completely ridiculous but whether down to his confidence in his eccentricity or his warmth it sort of worked for the wizard.

He looked up at the noise and his face broke into a kind smile "Hermione so good to see you" he gestured for her to take the seat in front of his desk "what can I do for you?"

Hermione took the seat gratefully and decided to get right to it "thank you for seeing me Mr Lovegood, I don't want to waste any of you time but I was hoping I could ask you some questions" he nodded "Well as you know I have been away for a long time.."

"Three years wasn't it?" he interrupted laughing softly "I receive a running commentary on the goings on in your life from Luna"

Hermione smiled "I'm sure, I had been hoping to see her but as I got to London I received a letter to say she was leaving" she phrased the next part carefully "I understand she was going on an expedition with Rolf Scamander?"

"Yes they met here a few months ago, he was talking about a creature that he had discovered and Luna wanted to see it, they will be back in a few weeks" It was clear from Xeno's expression that he was very pleased with this development and Hermione decided to press no further.

"Well that sounds wonderful, I hope to hear all about it when she returns. I actually came to speak to you about something specific, I was wondering... how much you can tell me about Azkaban?"

He looked slightly surprised but otherwise unconcerned about her question "I'll help however I can what is it you wish to know?"

"I visited a week ago, as a favor to a… well for someone, and the conditions were worse than I was expecting, there has been a lot said about improvements and the like and while it's clear they have done _something_ the environment still leaves an awful lot to be desired and there was some confusion about the inner circle trials?"

Xeno Lovegood sighed and the comforting smile slipped from his face, Hermione was reminded of his expression the day that he had called the Death Eaters, another time when she had come knocking on his door for answers, she didn't think she was going to like what he had to share "After the war the Death Eaters known to be part of the inner circle were transferred to Azkaban without trial, there was talk, talk that lasted for a long time _several years_ in fact about them being scheduled but the articles in The Prophet kept getting smaller and smaller and eventually about eighteen months ago they stopped altogether"

"And no one said anything?" she questioned, though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.

Mr Lovegood settled further back into his chair, steepling his fingers ahead of himself "We wrote articles of course, but the readership we had did not seem to share our concern. Public opinion is not in their favour, the press can print things the government won't say but it relies on the people taking up the cause, in this case, that didn't happen"

"Why?" she asked.

"It is my understanding that people do not need to empathise with a person to overlook their crimes, but they do need to feel some kind of sympathy for them. No matter what The Quibbler may have intended we only reported the facts and much of wizarding Britain has been brought up with the names of those men being used to scare children and adults alike with nightmarish tales of dark deeds. Most of them have no family left, anyone they do have is either locked up with them or not longer in a position of power. Simply put there is no one left to humanise them, at least not enough for people to care that they are being treated... _unfairly_ "

She thought of the Malfoys having to revert to her for assistance and what that must have cost them "But surely the way we treat prisoners reflects more on us as a society than it does on them as the wrongdoer?"

His smiled wanly at her "true, and such insights reflect well on you my dear, however, if I might make a suggestion?"

"Of course" she answered earnestly.

"You will find that people are very opposed to having any blame laid at their feet, however justly it may belong there, you would do well to not focus on what has gone before, instead look to what can be done to change the future"

Hermione's fingers flexed with the urge to begin writing, she had lists to begin and books to research "Thank you Xeno you've given me a lot to think about".

* * *

It took two months for Hermione to complete all of the ground work she needed before beginning, Xeno's words had galvanised her into action but there was no way she was going in there unprepared. Getting her visit request granted had been easy enough, though the ease of that process only compounded her many issues to tackle. When she had submitted her form she noticed there had been no box to specify her relationship to the person, when she pressed she was told that wasn't necessary, additionally it appeared that once a visit had been requested the Death Eaters had no recourse to refuse, Merlin only knew what they could have been subjected to by some. After leaving the DMLE she put in a request for information with the records department, she wanted to know who had been to the island and who they had seen in the last four years. Especially, she shuddered to think, _repeat visitors_.

She shifted the files in her hands as she made her way through the large metal doors, she did not delay this time having a mission chased away some of her fear but mostly she just wanted to get started, she had no idea how this was going to go though she suspected this initial meeting would be less than pleasant. She could have shrunk the files she supposed, but by holding them all and keeping them pressed against her chest she felt she had created a barrier of sorts, something to hide behind at the very least.

Cormac was waiting for her at the check-in station, he smiled his easy smile as she appeared and then glanced at all of her paperwork "somethings never change" he said with a great deal of affection "come on then Granger let's get you upstairs, I'm _escorting_ you today" he said with a mock pompous bow which made her giggle in spite of the situation.

She followed on behind, grateful she wouldn't have to see Johnson on this visit, she wasn't sure what to say to the man and she definitely didn't want him to confront her over her reason for returning, she didn't have to be a seer to know he was unlikely to happy with her intended purpose. She glanced at the man at her side under her lashes as they entered the lift, what of Cormac? Would he be the type to ignore a man in pain? She didn't think so, he may have changed in the three years that they had been apart but she doubted he would have changed in essentials, and Cormac was essentially a good person, an arrogant boy at times, but a good person.

When they got to the appropriate floor he showed her into the room she had requested, the cell fronts had put her in mind of zoos and she had no wish to conduct her conversation there. She began distributing her load and placing the stack of files in front of her. Cormac stood by the door shifting slightly, and she raised a brow in question at his obvious discomfort.

"Is everything ok?" she asked innocently.

"Yes…" he answered unconvincingly "do you know what you're doing Hermione? These people are dangerous, I don't want you to get hurt poking a wasps nest"

His concern for her was endearing but in this instance unnecessary "I'll be fine Cormac I promise" she said gently, sitting down, hopefully actively communicating to him that her desire to stay was not to be shaken.

"Okay" he agreed "I'll go get him"

"Thank you"

He turned before leaving the room "maybe we could go for dinner, over the weekend? We're long overdue a catch up" his tone was hopeful but it didn't make her think he considered it to be any more than what he had asked for, a catch up with friends.

"We certainly are, that sounds great" she said with real enthusiasm, she had missed their conversations.

He smiled "I'll owl you" and then he vanished from the room.

Hermione looked down at her paperwork, the plan of attack had taken time but the longest process had been selecting the right person. Xeno was right, the public needed someone to be _the face_ of the Death Eaters incarcerated here, as stupid as that may have sounded, in order to make any changes she needed to make this a human issue.

It was only when she began going through the profiles that she realised how many of the most prominent names had died at the final battle. The Carrows were here but they were out of consideration, the brother and sister duo were actual sadists and too many of the Hogwarts alumni and staff had suffered at their hands.

Lestrange had become a byword for demented, thanks in no small part by Bellatrix though the interaction she had with Rabastan before left her unwilling to put him in any sort of spotlight, she was no healer but at the very least he was vulnerable. She had no idea what to make of Rodolphus but was certain anyone involved in the attack against the Longbottoms would not be looked upon favourably.

She had no thought of talking to Nott or McNair their case files alone were enough to make her shudder.

What they needed was someone who would appeal to the public, who was had a respectable name and frankly given the understanding she had of how things worked attractive and well spoken wouldn't hurt. She had run her idea past Kingsley, though he may now have reached the lofty heights of Minister for Magic you don't ride an invisible horse with someone in a battle without forming a bond. Kingsley was attentive to her ideas, though she wasn't sure if he had a genuine interest or was just humouring her. She explained to him how she had thought Malfoy would have been her best option, but Kingsley put a stop to that. He explained how too many people had been blackmailed by Draco's father over the years for it to work, too many people wanted him, and the secrets he held, shut away.

That left three inmates but only one that she thought could really work. Hermione shuffled the files into a more sensical order, she didn't need them to consult with they were more prop than anything. She needed to be taken seriously, a little glimpse into how much work she had already done would hopefully go some way.

The door knocked and Cormac walked in again but her eyes were drawn to the dark figure looming behind him. Reuben Yaxley was tall, really, really tall with broad shoulders and hair that fell to his shoulders in loose, darkest brown waves. His facial hair had clearly gone a bit wayward while here but she could still make out the lines of his face, he had a strong jaw line and large manly features.

Cormac and another auror that had been at the back of the party moved Mr Yaxley to sit in the chair opposite her, charming his feet so they would remain rooted to the floor, Hermione had previously requested his hands not be bound she wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

When they had finished Cormac turned to her "We will be just outside Hermione, okay?" She was conscious of the quick head movement of the man in front of her, maybe he hadn't recognised her when he first came in. It wasn't exactly a surprise, the war had been four years ago and they hadn't had a huge amount of interaction aside from him chasing them out of The Ministry while on the Horcrux hunt.

"Yes Cormac, thank you I will be fine" she smiled in a way she hoped was reassuring doing her level best to keep her voice steady and unconcerned.

When the door closed she screwed up all of her bravery to meet the man's gaze, Reuben Yaxley's eyes were a light blue grey, the colour stood out as remarkable soft against the harsh lines of the rest of his face, his gaze was unwavering but she could not detect the emotion simmering in their depths.

Mindful of not letting the quiet stretch she began "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you Mr Yaxley"

He made no response, it wasn't exactly a surprise she hadn't exactly been expecting to have him gabbling at her straight away, if ever, and honestly she wasn't the best at putting people at ease or establishing a quick rapour. She did, however, have a reputation for both integrity and tenacity which was a good job as she was going to need both.

"Mr Yaxley I came to Azkaban a few months ago and I was concerned that the provisions The Ministry have implemented have not gone far enough to improve conditions here. In order to do something about it I believe I need to do something to get more attention, it is my plan to interview a current inmate of Azkaban prison and publish the details of those finding, humanise the story if you like"

He stood abruptly from his chair and she just managed to hold on to the scream that threatened at his sharp movement, the flinch that seemed to move her entire body she was unable to control, his feet were still firmly planted by the sticking charm to the floor, in fact he didn't even make an attempt to move he just stood looming over her. She had been aware of his size when he came into the room but now as she sat completely within the shadow his broad form had created she could really appreciate how intimidating he was, she suspected that he wasn't even really trying and that made a frisson of fear chace up her rigid spine.

"I'm not a fucking _house elf_ Miss Granger" he spat at her, his voice was low and deep, the sound held a rumbling vibration that would have been extremely pleasant had it not been directed at her in such rage. She started looking up at him eyes wide with surprise at his reference, and he smirked at her "Oh I know all about you, we spent days hauled up in a room learning about _the golden trio_ , can't tell you how long we laughed when Snape told us about your badges"

A flush fell over her cheeks as she listened to the derision in his tone, somehow hearing that Professor Snape had laughed at her hurt her more than she would have liked, she swallowed the lump in her throat, she would worry about that later.

"I am aware of that Mr Yaxley" she said with us much authority as she could muster "but this is very important and I believe could help you a great deal"

"I'm not interested" he bit out, she had read in his file that he had been born and raised in the North of England but had left there when he was ten, she was surprised at how thick his accent remained but she reasoned it could be more pronounced as his blood was clearly up.

She felt herself bristle at his quick rejection, while she really was very scared she was never one to back down easily "Really you haven't listened to all I…"

"Will _you_ fucking listen!" he boomed at her and she fell quiet "I may not have a choice about being here but I have one about whether or not I take part in some deranged witch's latest save the world scheme" he barked at her, his nostrils flaring.

She flexed her hands around the top most file in front of her, most people would refer to Hermione Granger as a witch of high moral fibre and for the most part that was true but she had accepted about herself a long time ago that her sense of justice prevailed over many things, she had broken laws and inflicted immeasurable pain over it before, right now she would poke a weak spot.

"Fine Mr Yaxley" she stood from her seat trying her best not to calculate the many inches that separated their heads "I will tell the aurors we are done here" she didn't look up at his face as she began shuffling the parchment in front of her "I'll be sure to pass on to Mr Dolohov that our attempts to assist were hindered by your _unwillingness_ to cooperate"

All the information she had gathered pointed to the two wizards being close, their friendship seemed to have started when they were both at school and continued into adulthood, various accounts existed of them being on missions together as well as people that had known them at Hogwarts commenting on their intimate friendship. Neither of them had any other family and she thought of how that would intensify their relationship. She thought of Harry, how much would she do to keep him safe?

The answer was simple, anything and everything necessary.

She did look up then to see whether or not her volley had hit the mark, the glare he had fixed on earlier had terrified her, she tried to hide it but she probably betrayed herself, she had ready his file, a lot. Reuben Yaxley was said to have had a _specialisation_ in torture and had been used extensively by Voldemort to extort information from _unwilling_ parties. People he had worked with at the DMLE during the time it was under Death Eater control said he was impossible to lie too, better than she had tried and failed. She forced her frozen legs to the door and she had her hand gripping the cool metal handle when he called for her to stop.

" " he bit out, each word clearly costing him dearly.

Keen to not stretch out this portion of their conversation any further she did as asked and resumed her seat "what would you like me to explain?" she asked placatingly.

"Why pick me?" he questioned suspicion radiating from him.

She suddenly felt the confidence that came from being on familiar ground, she had anticipated his question and his distrust "The Yaxley family are members of the sacred twenty-eight, war or no war the general population feel, however much they may hide it now, that you are above being treated this way" the answer was rehearsed but honest.

* * *

YPOV

The words were so familiar it made him start, it was exactly the sort of thing his father would have said if he had been alive to see his son in Azkaban for the second time. As she filed back into the chair he followed suit and sat back down, he had been using his height to intimate her, he didn't really need to be standing to do that, he was still imposing when sitting down, it was made slightly ridiculous by her stature but he had still done it and it had worked to.

When he had first walked in he had been irritated, he was a wizard that liked control, as much as he didn't like being in prison he could control his existence fairly well, he had done his best to intimidate most of the guards when he arrived, many of them had worked under him at The Ministry and had needed no further encouragement to stay out of his way. Being dragged unexpectedly for a meeting with Merlin knew who had left him momentarily reeling.

When they had got to the door of the small room he had mentally been preparing himself for a physical altercation, maybe someone had paid off the guards enough to have a go at him, while he didn't have his magic they may have stood half a chance, as long as they bound him totally.

He had been caught up short by the tiny witch sat behind the desk surrounded by parchment files, not that it meant she wasn't there to hex him, he had faced some pretty formidable woman before, though normally when a wand was pointed at him in those situations he was trying to flee after a quick tumble, in various stages of undress.

The paperwork threw him, it made her look _official_ which put him on edge, only to be knocked off course again when Mclaggen had called her Hermione, weren't too many of those around. When his head snapped over to her quicker than he could suppress he took in her profile, small nose smattered with freckles and large brown eyes, face partially hidden by a mass of haywire chocolate curls, it was her, it was Hermione fucking Granger. He wondered how much of failing to recall her immediately could be put down to his addled brain. He took a closer look and reassured himself that his facilities were still whatever they were, he hadn't recognised her as she had changed.

It was strange to see her as a woman now and not the skinny child she had been all those years ago. He had seen glimpses of her at the final battle, malnourished, beaten up and just about as dirty as he was now. Thinking of his own state he was hit by a sudden awareness that Hermione Granger or not he was sitting in front of a woman for the first time in years, he tucked his offending fingernails into his palms.

He was suspicious of her motives, everyone knew she had a thing about underdogs; elves, following Potter around and hadn't she even been making doe-eyes at Weasley? Buy why this? He hadn't been lying he really didn't want to do to be involved in some press The Ministry were spouting but she had played her cards well she obviously had a bit more cunning than she had ever been given credit for.

"I don't need your pity Miss Granger" he all but growled at her. It was invigorating that feeling of dominating someone, a conversation, a room anything.

"I'm not offering it" she answered plainly closing her hands together in front of her "I am offering my help, do you think you could over yourself enough to accept it?" she had obviously tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice but wasn't wholly successful, his hands twitched slightly at her show of bravado.

"Why would you do this? Bare in mind I will know if you are lying" he threatened.

She looked up to meet his gaze and his eyes fixed on her large chocolate pools waiting for any hint of deception "Are you an animal Mr Yaxley?" she asked tonelessly.

"No"

"Then you don't deserve to live like one"

* * *

When he was led back into his cells he found Antonin standing nearest his wall he walked over.

"What was that about?" his friend asked, he was agitated and Reuben knew that he should probably try to comfort him but he couldn't help but be buoyed at the sight of Antonin doing something other than lying motionless on his cot and staring at the ceiling.

His face split into a broad grin "I think we've just found a bleeding heart Gryffindor that we should be able to use to our advantage"

* * *

 _A/N next up; a lot of people have opinions. Prior warning, next update may take a little longer._


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out, this story takes a bit longer than some of the others to put together, Yaxley likes things to be *just so*. Big love to Kreeblim Sabs who picks me off the floor when I am struggling with this one._

 _If you are looking for more Yaxley time I have recently posted chapters with him in other fics;_

 _ **The Mixtape**_ _-_ _Track 4_ _\- Hermione x Yaxley in a different (less complicated) short story._

 _ **After the Meeting**_ _-_ _The Brother's Tale_ _\- Yaxley during the first wizarding war (lemons!)._

* * *

Hermione stood in front of her bedroom mirror turning from side to side before huffing and throwing yet another outfit onto the 'no' pile. She really had to go shopping, most of her clothes were either relics from her time at school or clothes she had from travelling, neither seemed quite right. What she needed was a total rebrand, clothing that would reflect the fact that she was no longer a schoolgirl, a style that would show how much she had changed.

Sighing she stepped so close to the barren wardrobe she was almost inside it and began rooting through its contents with a grim determination. She wondered if she should ask Ginny for some help but quickly cut off that thought realising what she was letting herself in for if she went down that road.

Finally, she settled on a plain black sun dress that she transfigured to fit slightly better than it had before, she gave her hair up as a lost cause and moved to the kitchen debating having a small glass of wine before leaving to meet Cormac. _Just the one_ , she chided herself.

Though her visit to the prison had been three days ago, it still lingered at the forefront of her mind, _painfully so_. When Hermione had eventually apparated back to Grimmauld Place after her meeting with Yaxley, she excused herself from Harry and Ginny's enquires opting instead to shut herself in the bathroom for an hour. As soon as the bolt had slid across the door, she had slipped down the secured barrier, pointed her wand to set the tap running, and collapsed onto the cool tiled floor. She had released heavy breath after heavy breath, in an attempt to let go of the anxiety and fear she had not been able to display over the previous hour.

When she had re-entered Azkaban Hermione had been _determined_ not to let appear as if the environment was bothering her. She had been focused on Yaxley seeing her as a woman, not a child, and one equal to the task of taking on The Ministry and the views of the general public, she wouldn't have been able to do that shaking in fear, as much as she had wanted to.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she stretched her legs out in front of her watching as goose pimples covered her skin. Hermione chastised herself for her lack of foresight; she hadn't given enough thought to the _man_ beneath the Death Eater before the visit. Sure she had considered him, from every angle, but her study had been academic, she had readily come to the conclusion that he was the best candidate for the figurehead, on paper. She had failed to rationalise that people were so much more than the sum of their parts, a biography, however detailed, would only reflect elements of someone's true self.

Reuben Yaxley was so much more than any of the hundreds of parchment sheets she had reviewed painted him. He was acerbic, intelligent, cynical and incredibly forceful. He appeared entirely in command of himself and his faculties, considering his extensive prison stays that was nothing short of miraculous. _What sort of man would he have been if he had made different choices?_

Hermione had to give herself some credit, it wasn't all a lack of preparation; she could have dug as deep as she liked into the wizard, nothing would have ever prepared her for him looming over her as he did, his display had been intimidating and a show of real power. She wondered for the hundredth time how they were going to present this man to the world as someone who required their clemency.

Making one last twirl and awkward bend in the mirror to check the back of her outfit she sighed and headed down to position herself on the dirty bench table in the Grimmauld Place kitchen, thanking her lucky stars that her friends were out, she couldn't face Ginny's questions about Cormac tonight. The redhead had descended into the mania that befell many that have a ring slipped onto their finger and had promptly begun attempting to match-make everyone around her _so they could be_ _as happy as she was_. Hermione fought down the urge to pull a face everytime Ginny repeated the expression, her smile becoming more and more brittle with each rehearing.

Not that there was anything wrong with Cormac, per say, Hermione just thought there should probably be more to her friend's approval than factoring the extra player for their games of pick-up Quidditch. If she was honest, with herself Harry's reaction had bothered her more or rather his lack of one. Ginny's squawking may have been irritating, but that paled in light of her _best friend's_ disinterested shrug when his wife had pushed him to help her convince Hermione that Cormac could be _the guy_.

Hermione twisted the stem of the now empty wine glass between her fingers, for the first time asking herself what the criteria she was looking for was exactly?

* * *

The restaurant Cormac had picked was light and airy with a charmed wall that depicted softly transitioning images of the sea on the South Coast; Hermione felt a momentary remembrance of some holiday taken before Hogwarts with her parents, a lifetime ago. She grit her teeth against the lash of hurt that gripped her chest before marching passed the wall that had lost its initial appeal.

Having previously agreed to meet there, when she arrived she was ushered to a table, happy to find that Cormac was already there. Years of dealing with Harry and Ron's perpetual lateness made her fiercely work against her tendencies to be fifteen minutes early lest she had to sit alone, she kept forgetting that Cormac, was just not like them.

As he saw her approach the table, his face broke into an easy smile, and he stood to wrap her in a quick but fierce embrace before tucking her chair in and sitting back down himself. Their conversation was idle at first, remembrances of past fun and tales of their time apart, the main courses had arrived before they had sufficiently broken the ice to begin topics of more import.

"So, your mission at Azkaban?" Cormac began, his body language was open, inviting her to speak.

"I'm not entirely sure yet; I feel that something needs to be done though" she responded, she knew it was a vague answer, but she didn't have a plan entirely worked out yet. Once she did she would happily argue over its merits with any who doubted her but for now, now she would keep her thoughts close to her chest.

Cormac dropped his head to the side as if he was picking his next words carefully. "People won't like that Hermione, there would be those that say that got what they deserved," he said gently, but not placatingly. What she always liked about Cormac was that he viewed her as not just an intellectual equal, or maybe even superior, but he made it clear he felt she was an emotional one too. He didn't try to manage her like some did. Yes, she could be overly passionate about things at times, but the answer was a rational debate not to give her the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head and a biscuit.

Hermione put her cutlery down to consider her response; his reaction had not been alarming, she was prepared for far worse responses than this. Still, she had better get used to defending her actions.

She looked him straight in the eyes "I understand that Cormac, I empathise with it I do. Some of those inmates have committed the worst crimes imaginable, and if the situations were reversed, had the war ended differently, I doubt any of them would have shown an ounce of compassion for anyone they held" she said levelly.

"So why?" he said leaning forward onto the table waiting for her answer.

"I've seen it" she replied simply, "Maybe I could have ignored it if I had never had reason to go, maybe it would have been a dull hum at the back of my mind that I would never have rooted around to address, but, now that I have. Those images... they are right at the front… I can't have that on my conscience."

Hermione had turned over her actions in her mind more that once. Before leaving England, she had never thought of those in prison, and she imagined it would be the same for most people, though the sensory overload she had experienced while there had not dulled over time, if anything her remembrances had become acuter.

When she had first left Malfoy Manor she had been so very proud of herself, for the first time she felt like she had come out of a situation not playing straight into the hands of the snakes she was dealing with. She had felt she was finally showing some signs of tampering her brash moralistic sense of justice, rounding herself out. It was a few days before she had started to question whether everything was as it had seemed; What if the Malfoy's had been playing a longer game than she had first considered? What if Draco had just wanted her to go there, to see it, his father was obviously sick but what if that hadn't been the end goal?

These questions kept her awake at night, but she recognised their futility at the same time, it didn't matter how she had ended up on the rock in the North Sea, the fact was she had and now… now she had to do something about it.

Cormac shifted on the other side of the table yanking her thoughts back to the present; "how was the meeting with Yaxley?" he inquired lightly. She turned to look at his face, there was something in the set of his jaw, something that was just off as if he was fearful for her answer.

Hermione had a momentary flash of the enraged pureblood standing above her, talking to her derisively, she swallowed "it went about as well as could be expected" she responded matching his tone, sure her face belied some of her lingering concerns as much as his whispered his discomfort.

"Be careful with him Hermione" he said decidedly.

She fought the exasperation his warning gave her dropping her cutlery to the table "I did fight in a war Cormac I know I may appear…"

He held his hands up in front of himself before interrupting "he is different, this whole situation is different, it's not about fighting in the field. If you are visiting him hoping for his cooperation, look very carefully at what he is trying to get from you."

Hermione fidgeted with her napkin "I understand… thank you for your concern" she said politely if a little primly.

When she looked back up Cormac was appraising her face, head tilted, he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment "you look different" he said finally, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion "not harder, but,... something".

"Three years is a long time" she answered softly, suddenly aware of heat in her neck, they had so far managed to avoid the conversation of where their relationship was when she had left. She wondered if they would ever have that talk, is she even wanted to?

"Yes," he answered wistfully "it certainly is".

Just then the waiter reappeared to top up their wine glasses and whatever was hiding behind Cormac's eyes seemed to dissipate.

"While I am bringing things up that will annoy you" he began cautiously and Hermione motioned for him to continue "ah...your parents" Hermione stilled "Hermione you have to know that it was most likely someone within those walls that did... _that_. Someone that you will be endeavouring to bring comfort too, can you handle that?"

Hermione's eyes locked with his; she let herself be calmed by those sea foam green irises, the ones that had been there that day, the ones that had been there to put her back together afterwards.

"I'm not sure" she answered honestly.

He leant forward over the small table and took her small hand in his "I didn't mean to upset you, I just want you to be prepared. I don't mean with paper files and plans of attack, I mean…. _your heart Hermione_ ," his voice trailed off as he ran his thumb rhythmically over her knuckles "it can be a bit of a weakness for you."

* * *

Two weeks was a long time to a witch like Hermione Granger, following her dinner with Cormac she made the decision to get out of Grimmauld Place. Her stay had been much better than she had anticipated but she was used to her space. Also, it was highly likely that some of her friends would have very definite opinions on what she was trying to do when it all came out. It would be better if she could avoid those ideas in her home.

After answering an ad she got a part time job in Flourish and Blotts, and thanks to some of her muggle work while away managed to get some more hours at a Waterstones in Oxford Circus. The combination of the two giving her enough money to begin renting a small flat in one of the many small cobbled streets of Diagon Alley.

The small space had a spare bedroom that she quickly repurposed into an office; turning it into her centre of operations.

Though she may have gained Yaxley's tentative agreement to become a figurehead that was exactly what is had been, tentative, and figurehead for what remained slightly undecided.

Her first thought, unsurprisingly, had been direct action. She had planned on going to the Ministry, to speak to Kingsley, to apply to the Wizengamot to produce a report on conditions. But the soft voice and words of Xeno Lovegood stopped her; _people are very opposed to having any blame laid at their feet, however justly it may belong there, you would do well not to focus on what has gone before, instead look at what can be done to change the future._

* * *

Hermione was perched at the breakfast bar in her tiny kitchen when Luna popped in; she wasn't aware she had keyed her into the wards so the sudden sound made her jump. Not that she was particularly surprised when she saw the blond witch, Hermione didn't imagine something so insignificant as wards had ever kept Luna out of a place she wanted to be.

"I'm back" Luna called.

"Evidently" Hermione replied, but her face was stretched in a broad smile as she moved across the small space to embrace her friend.

"I brought lunch" Luna held a bag aloft

"Great, I want to hear all about your travels" Hermione replied relieving her of the bag she had brought and steered her into the kitchen. When Luna reached for the kettle Hermione bustled her out of the way in a manner Molly Weasley would have been proud of. Hermione may have embraced the wizarding world, but there were some kitchen appliances she preferred to use, after being utterly horrified over how the dreamy blonde had made, what she called 'tea' while at Hogwarts, she didn't want her anywhere near her beloved kettle.

Luna's tales took over an hour, and Hermione listened attentively as the blonde's eyes took on a new life while discussing the creatures she had seen or the places she had visited, noting that they never looked brighter than when odd references were made to her travelling companion Rolf Scamander.

When Luna had come up for air, she decided to press, tentatively, into their relationship "so Rolf?" she questioned, "how did you two come to know each other in the first place?"

Luna looked contemplative for a moment "he came by to see Daddy in his offices, he was ready to go on this expedition, and he had the brightest aura of anyone I have ever seen, I'm afraid I was rather pulled into his orbit. We had lunch, and he invited me to come with him" she replied peacefully.

"Just like that?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yes," She confirmed, beaming.

"That seems a little fast" Hermione edged.

Luna laughed, "says the girl ready to take on the establishment after one prison visit" Hermione sagged, Luna put her cup down and looked at her firmly "he was just, is just… right."

Hermione snorted despite herself "are you about to tell me that you have some _magical spark_ with Rolf, a passion that can't be contained?" she asked playfully.

Luna laughed "No, nothing as cliche as that" Hermione regarded the unfocused expression on her friend's face as she glanced off into the distance "from that first moment when he looked at me, _I just knew_ , when we spoke he listened to what I had to say. Not with forbearance or pretence but genuine interest. He sees me Hermione, all of me, the good and the bad... And he doesn't judge me for any of it."

Hermione played with the fabric at the bottom of her skirt slightly uncomfortable with the earnest quality of her friend's declaration. "What about Neville?"

"We were never serious Hermione; he knew that in fact, I think he was a little relieved that I was on the same page as him."

Hermione's brow pinched "He was a good guy though right?"

"Of course" Luna affirmed "and it was sweet, lovely even… but never vital. Rolf… from that first day, he was imperative."

Hermione nodded her brain swirling from Luna's assertions; she moved to re-fill the kettle before Luna's dreamy voice flowed over to where she stood "he asked about you a lot after you were gone."

"Who?" Hermione answered attempting nonchalance.

Luna's head tilted to the side as she regarded her with a small smile on her face "I think he would like to come off as disinterested, but he isn't, not really, not when it comes to you". Neither girl mentioned that who they were talking about was never qualified; it didn't need to be.

Hermione turned to look at her not sure what to say, Luna didn't seem put off by her lack of response and continued," _integral_ isn't always two sided Hermione, you should be careful of those that view you as such if it's an emotion you cannot return. And definitely, avoid situations where the reverse may be true."

Hermione was locked into her friends all knowing gaze for a moment before she broke it "come on less talk of love, let's eat."

As they started on the food, Luna had brought Hermione filled her in on the trip to Azkaban, both times, and all she had ascertained about the running of the prison itself as well as the public's perception of it.

"So, what's you plan?" the blonde asked finally.

Hermione twirled the long strips of pasta around her fork, "I think the best route would be some article or news story. Before I spoke to your father, I was determined that there should be some expose on the conditions, but he has led me to believe that might not be best."

"Oh?" Luna pushed lightly.

"So I am thinking about something more subtle, a profile on Reuben Yaxley as a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight who is now unable to operate in society in the way he wants, hints dropped at how he is being treated, no more, no less."

"To what end?" Luna probed liking red sauce from the side of her mouth.

"I need something to garner public opinion; I want them to make changes, but I can't see that happening in the current climate."

"So the publication?" Luna asked knowingly.

Hermione smiled "well it can't be The Prophet, it's too heavily linked with The Ministry, not only would they not publish what was needed the Death Eaters wouldn't trust them. It would need to be a slightly subversive choice of both publication and interviewer, any ideas?"

Luna laughed "oh maybe a few."

* * *

Luna eventually left hours later once Hermione had turned down the fifth offer of pudding, she couldn't have another desert this week; she couldn't exactly be the driving force behind deprivation and be stuffing her face at the same time.

Luna had agreed, in her own typically roundabout way, to undertake the interview, now Hermione just had to organise when it would go ahead.

* * *

Reuben was sat at the back of the cell inches away from the small gap that allowed him to communicate with Antonin; it had been three weeks since he had seen Hermione Granger and he was beginning to get restless.

There was always the possibility that she had been more intimidated than she was letting on and had decided not to come back, his fists clenched as his mind turned over the prospect. She didn't seem the type to let something go.

Once again he considered what she might be planning, and more importantly how he could bend those plans to his own ends. He could sense her ultimate goal, witches like her weren't hard to read, everything she felt was almost painted on her forehead for the whole world to see. She would want them to be warmer, cleaner, better fed.

All good, all noble aspirations.

It was a shame that noble meant nothing to the damned.

As much as her enthusiasm made his teeth ache he couldn't fault her for it, he just had to find a way to impress upon her that hell was still hell, whether you had access to soap and running water or not.

A shadow fell over the enclosed space, and he watched the sneering face of Aiden Johnson appear in the magical veil that sealed the cell. Johnson had been an auror at his time at the DMLE and a good one, at least until he had run foul of Selwyn, that particular Death Eater had been less scrupulous in dealing with people that had morals that prevented them from carrying out orders.

He looked up to face him, squaring his shoulders but not rising.

"You will have a visit next week" Johnson spat.

Reuben raised his eyebrows; notice was new, he wondered why they would start… _Hermione_. His face broke into a smile "you should have alerted me to your promotion to messenger boy Johnson, I would have passed on my hearty congratulations" he sniped.

He watched the old auror's right-hand twitch, and he tipped his head mockingly in response. The lack of fear seemed to rile him further, but he had no chance to act before Mclaggen arrived.

"Problem Aiden?" the blond asked softly, laying his hand on the older man's shoulder. Mclaggen was a new addition to the routine here, and one Reuben had assessed quickly as being slightly more intelligent than the average in the new crop, if a little pure, a few years on the job would soon cure that. "Why don't you head back to the checkpoint, I'll finish up here?"

Johnson nodded before scowling at Reuben, much to his amusement. When he looked back up Mclaggen was regarding him impassively "you will have a visit next week, Hermione will be bringing Luna Lovegood from The Quibbler."

Reuben nodded briefly, and the blond backed away. He was greatly amused that she must have _insisted_ he be told before she arrived, that kind of behaviour spoke of her rather strong Gryffindor tendencies which were sure to be something of a disadvantage.

 _But The Quibbler?_... A smile broke across his face at that… _clever girl_.


	6. Chapter 5

This time when the guards appeared at the mouth of his cell Reuben was ready. He was reluctant ever to feel gratitude to anyone outside of his, admittedly diminished, inner circle, especially one he knew as little as her, but he considered feeling it here. Though he was well aware that Hermione's action was a little self-serving, he was likely to be a lot more amenable to this conversation, if he was expecting it to happen.

Mclaggan had come to collect him again, and something began to itch at his brain at the sight of the young auror, he seemed eager and slightly twitchy; excitement wasn't an emotion usually displayed by those visiting him. Reuben came quietly, holding his hands up and standing still for the requisite cuffs and suppression charms to be placed over his body. He hated those charms more than anything. They put him grimly in mind of the Imperious Curse.

He had succumbed to that particular curse only twice in his life. He had heard people describe it as a light, floating feeling, where they no longer worried about individual decisions, they felt free from all resistive shackles of life. It was not the same for him. He would gladly lay himself down to be Crucio'd again and again rather than that, the loss of free will was a much greater pain.

He flinched as the familiar magic settled into his skin but made no other sign of discomfort before following the blond down the dark corridor into the lift.

As they made their way down in the rickety contraption Reuben ran over his objectives for the day in his mind; he had no way of knowing how many other opportunities he would have to meet with her. Every instance was to be exploited to his best advantage.

Soon they were in front of the same room he had been escorted to the last time, and he dipped his head slightly as he was walked through the door. He was moved to sit at the table opposite Granger and Luna Lovegood; he had anticipated she would be the curly haired witch's choice over her father, though it was still slightly odd to see her. Her expression was warmly neutral like she was meeting an acquaintance for tea rather than sitting across from a known killer in this dank hole.

He suppressed his smirk when they secured his feet but once again left his hands free, _was it boldness or just a case of misguided empathy that made her do something so stupid?_ He may not have his magic, but he was more than a match for two women, especially of their stature.

Mclaggen got to the door and Reuben heard him turn before exiting "let me know when your done Hermione" he softly reminded and then the door closed with a soft click.

The itching was back only, this time, it was identifiable. Reuben was so used to assessing people, and it was such an underused skill that people had no idea what they were revealing when the spoke around him. Every tonal change, every hesitation, ever gleam of an eye or twitch of lips had a meaning.

It was the _way_ Mclaggen had said her name, not that he had addressed her by her first name, Reuben could hazard a guess they were either in the same year or close to it and he knew they had been in the same house so they must have _known_ each other. No, it was the slight wistfulness in his tone, he was fairly sure the auror didn't know he was doing it, one glance at Hermione revealed she certainly hadn't picked up on it. He liked her, now the thinly veiled excitement from earlier made more sense.

He observed the little blonde looking sideways at her friend for a moment, so she knew, _that was interesting_.

A ruffle of paper from the other side of the room alerted him to Luna preparing herself "good afternoon Mr Yaxley" she said picking up a quill "my name is Luna Lovegood, thank you for seeing me today" she smiled lightly at him, and he had to suppress a laugh.

He had heard stories about the girl, of course, many of the Death Eaters he knew had been down to talk to her while she was at Malfoy Manor. He had seen her at meetings once or twice. Conversing with the girl was like talking to a sphinx, everything she said seemed to be a riddle meant for higher minds, most of the time reading like complete nonsense, and yet there was something there, something that lingered behind her eyes that spoke of greater understanding.

There had been talk when he was much younger that her mother, Pandora, had been a Seer but the family had never confirmed it. Not that anyone would, the sight was a rare and powerful gift, though it was unlikely to be one that would be cherished.

Why go to the trouble of pandering to a pampered pet to get your visions when you can oppress a slave into giving them up through fear?

"I wasn't aware I had a choice" he bit out finally. His rough tone made no effect on either face looking back at him, and he curled his arms in front of his chest.

"Yes, well" Hermione took up the reins "after our _discussion_ last time we have decided that the best course of action is to do a piece on you, in The Quibbler, focussing on who you are and your former standing in wizarding society. The eventual idea being to gain some public favour before beginning a lobby for reforms."

Reuben sat back further in his chair, it wasn't what he had been expecting, he would have put money on the little Gryffindor writing a hell and damnation piece on the conditions that would have hushed up by the Ministry immediately.

Whatever expression he had on his face she must have clocked it "Ah… not what you were expecting?" she asked knowingly.

There was no smugness in her tone, but he could detect a trace of it in her eyes, silly girl, she had been underestimating him since he walked through the door the last time.

The interview itself, despite the weirdness of the situation, was strangely sane and competent. Reuben could picture the final article looking similar to the 'bachelor profiles' some of the most elite publications used to put together during the time of the first war. The thought gave him some distaste, but he pushed it down. He would never admit as much, but the idea was a shrewd one, for the first time since he had walked into the room and seen her he could foresee that the plan might at least part way work.

His eyes fell on Hermione again; she had barely spoken since the meeting had begun and he was starting to get frustrated with her lack of participation. He _needed_ to get under her skin, the straw man he had mentally comprised of her personality was not totally holding up under the scrutiny of this visit and he needed to know more, to know how best to proceed with his campaign.

He would have to provoke her.

He got his chance a few moments later when Lovegood politely enquired into marriage and the like, he smirked. By this point, he was confident that anything they did publish would be a _highly edited version_ of this conversation to suit their agenda. Most of them even being her was just to be able to prove the meeting had even happened.

"No, Miss Lovegood, no marriages, or betrothal contracts at any time. At the time that such things would have been relevant to me I was far too interested in getting between their thighs to consider taking them up the aisle" he kept the smirk off his face, barely, but couldn't suppress the slight upturn of his lips.

His crudeness had the desired effect; when he saw Hermione stiffen slightly, though her reaction was far more muted than he had anticipated.

He poked at her regardless; "What's the problem Granger too prudish to think about the joys of sex? Or has it simply been too long since you were given a good seeing too?"

He sat forward in his seat taking up more of the space directly in front of her, trying to turn the screws to antagonise her further.

"Mr Yaxley" she answered with a tone of exasperation that he was almost certain was false "I am fairly sure of the two of us, I would have had more _encounters_ in the past five years."

He was mildly impressed by her calm rejoinder, but her pink cheeks gave away her discomfort, and he was far from done. "That maybe so, but I have alway been a man who is a great believer in quality over quantity. A few tepid flames are not preferable to a raging fire after all" he deliberately thickened his voice smirking when her neck began to colour, and she squirmed in her seat.

Her fingers gripped the quill she was holding, but she looked him straight in the eye "I would think it comes down to the partner of your choice, I dare say a man such as yourself would probably find alone time rather…. _Fulfilling_ " she drew out the word with a raised eyebrow "which is rather useful as that is the only option currently available to you."

"Why Miss Granger, should I take that as a subtle hint into one of your reforms?"

"Hardly" she bit out.

He narrowed his eyes at her in warning, but inside he was gleeful, the little instances she gave where she showed more of herself allowed him to fill in the blanks of the puzzle that was her personality in his mind.

The interview continued, and he needled her at any and _every_ opportunity, sometimes she reacted others she merely ignored. Overall his behaviour had been much more congenial that their first visit though a lot of it was for show, he needed this witch and if he had to play a part to get what he wanted he would. But then, then the atmosphere changed.

"So Mr Yaxley, we have from your notes that you had a younger brother, how did losing him at such a young age affect your life and the succession plans for your house?" Luna's melodic voice drifted across the table, the question floating and tightening around his neck like barbed cords.

His hands clenched the rim of the table, and he felt his blood heat as it accelerated around his body. His right hand flicked instinctively as if moving to release his wand from his holster, but no wand was forthcoming. His mind was quickly becoming awash with red fog until he registered a small voice cutting through the spiralling chaos "ask another question Luna" _her_ voice asked gently.

The soft sound made him snap his head up, his sense of self returning "no" he barked firmly "no more questions".

The silence in the room was heavy for a few seconds before Luna jumped up onto her feet and sashayed to the door, knocking on the solid surface. When it opened he could hear her calm notes "we are done now, I would like to see the cells please" he couldn't see her face, but he knew she was beaming. The effect was mildly disconcerting, even to someone like him.

"That's highly irregular.." he heard Johnson bluster before Mclaggen, that must have still be stood there, affirmed he would take her.

Hermione made to get up, and he raised his face to look at her "not you" he said slowly without breaking his stare, she regarded him a moment before nodding and sitting back down in the chair.

 _Good girl._

He waited until the door had closed and the sound of voices had died away before he spoke: "that was your idea of an interview?" He didn't hold back the sneer from his tone, the silence having done nothing to take away the bite he felt that lingered on his skin from Luna's question.

"Don't disparage my friend" she answered quietly but surely, _stupid fucking Gryffindor_ , why couldn't she pick up that this wasn't the time to antagonise him. Though, her sense of loyalty was… _pleasing_.

As he sat back on his chair, he removed the steel vice-like grasp he had on the table before almost suddenly realising his hands were free. He looked up to meet Hermione's eyes and he could see the determination there as well as the wariness. Not wary enough.

He had clocked the roll of her hand sometime after the question had first been asked; he knew she would have palmed her wand, young as she was she was still a veteran of war, begrudgingly he could admit she had seen more action than many.

In a move that was so quick he knew she wouldn't have had time to react, he reached over with one hand to encircle her wrist firmly, the shock stretching her fingers. He used that momentary lapse to grab her wand and let the smirk fall on his face as a flash of fear moved across her features. It was somewhat reassuring to his ego that she didn't view him as some caged, _tamed pet_.

He idly twirled the end of the wand through the air never breaking eye contact with her. She didn't move, didn't jump up and try and retrieve it like a child who had a toy removed from her cherishing hold she just stared back at him, though he could almost see her brain fighting to come up with a plan.

He narrowed his eyes at her before throwing the slim wood back in her direction. It wasn't as if he could have used it, not with more guards outside, but her reaction had been telling. There was more to this girl than first met the eye.

He saw her shoulders sag almost imperceptibly when her wand was back between her fingers, and she ran a hand up it slowly before placing it down by her hip, underneath the table.

He felt calmer after his power play, more in control, he leant forward again, deliberately invading her space as much as he could before speaking "I want a copy of that article" he demanded.

"That can be arranged" she conceded.

"I want you to bring it to me" he continued.

Her eyebrows raised "why?"

"I may have questions.. And I am warning you no word of _my family_ in that, or there will be consequences."

They stared at each other for an infinite amount of time before she nodded again, it was the second time she had done it. The _need_ to correct her, to tell her to speak her affirmation, her consent, bubbled in his throat. Too many flashbacks of training willing women from their embarrassed silence filtered through his mind, and he straightened in his seat.

He bit the inside of his mouth as he pushed through his ill taste at his next request "I want something from you."

"What do you want?" she asked sounding a little breathier than usual, he had a feeling he would be playing that sentence back to himself later.

"I need a book" his voice remaining unaffected.

"A particular book?" she asked confused.

He fought down his irritation at the conversation; he hated to be in anyone's debt or give anyone the impression they were doing him a favour. "No, anything, well something that might hold his attention."

"His?"

"Do you ever stop asking fucking questions Granger?" he spat.

"Sorry," she answered, not that she appeared contrite in any way. The word seemed to have fallen out of her mouth as a reflex, in fact, she appeared to look mildly annoyed at her response. Over propensity to apologise when she wasn't in the wrong, well maybe life hadn't always been easy for the little golden girl.

"It's for Antonin" he gruffed, and he noticed her tense "problem Granger?"

She shook her head to reply in the negative and his teeth gnashed together to stop himself from chastising her. The desire to grip her chin and pull her face up to look at him was almost overwhelming. Though he knew why she was unruffled. He and Antonin had discussed the girl at length following her meeting with him the last time. Antonin's curse that hit her at the Department of Mysteries was likely to have been an issue at some point.

"It wouldn't have something to do with the scar you have across your torso would it?" he spoke smugly, and he saw the hard line of her mouth as she turned to him.

"He tried to kill me," she said defensively.

 _So it did scar._

"I would suggest" he began in a tone designed to patronise her, "if that is a stumbling block for you that you leave immediately. Fold up all your nicely colour coded plans to decorate this place, a plan apparently based on a desire to alleviate your over inflated conscious. As you won't find many within this walls that haven't at least attempted the same."

"Who knew the great Hermione Granger would be so egotistical" he continued "is an attempt on your life a crime more heinous than the deaths that could be laid at the rest of our doors?"

"I was fifteen" she implored, but her voice was small. Reuben could see he was getting to her, and adrenaline surged through him as he watched her chest rise and fall from the exertion of their disagreement, he twitched as she sat back in the seat and her eyes fell into her lap in submission to his argument.

 _Good girl._

"That you were, but your involvement was down to your side, not mine. In any case, you killed one of my friends, so it wasn't as if you were a babe amongst wolves, no matter how you might want to repaint the past."

"I'm sorry?" she looked up then eyes wide with panic.

He almost laughed at her dear in headlights expression, would have, but it wasn't funny.

"When you went to rescue your beloved Potter, you shot Travers in the chest, and he fell to his death."

He had noticed the small shake of her hands before she placed them in her lap under the desk "I… I stunned him" she said falteringly.

"Yes you did, thirty feet in the air."

She was quiet for the longest time before she rested both hands on the table surface again "I will see what I can do".

* * *

When Hermione and Luna left the doors of Azkaban, she grabbed Luna almost immediately and apparated them away.

She needed to breathe.

The last visit she had run home and hidden in the bathroom desperate to calm herself down before facing anyone else. This time, she wasn't heading for home.

The popped into a side-street just off Diagon Alley and with a great deal of affected cheer she asked Luna to come to lunch with her to talk over some of the stuff they could use for the article and her general thoughts. When she caught the slightly assessing gaze of her friend she knew Luna wasn't fooled but she didn't care.

She couldn't be alone right now.

Alone she would have to deal with the adrenaline racing through her body, ask herself whether this was the best plan, chastise herself for letting him grab her wand, question her intentions as she knew she should have reported it.

But mostly?

Mostly she would have to address why her heated skin felt like gooseflesh and why his impassioned words had struck something so deep in her they felt as if they were cloaking her soul.

* * *

 _A/N big hugs to Kreeblim Sabs who Alpha reads this for me, who last week uploaded a new fic Ophelia which you should ALL go check out._

 _Advanced warning that next week I am going on a writing break for two weeks, normal posting will resume after that._

 _Thank you to all of your reviews and adds to lists I really appreciate it._


End file.
